So I Read My Email and My Day Went Downhill

It was a normal morning for me.

I set my alarm for 5:20. And hit the snooze button until 6:20. I do this every morning. Why I don't just set the alarm for 6:20, I don't know. Something about slapping my bedside table every ten minutes for an hour makes me think I'm doing something really indulgent....like sleeping in. Although it is so not.

More normal came when it was time to get dressed. I live in my long sleeve white tee-shirts. I have three of them that I just run through several times a week. I layer them under everything, because I'm just that kind of girl. Anyway...all three of my tee buddies were thrown into the washer last night, to prepare for their next go-round, and I had every intention of moving them to the dryer last night. I got all flustered when my DVR cut off the end of American Idol last night, so I went to bed and pouted. And never got up to switch out the laundry. So this morning, I was in the shower when I realized that, horror of horrors, my shirts were all still wet in the washer. I did what anyone of the rest of you would have done. I found something else to wear? Not a chance. I took the time to fold all the towels that were in the dryer and then move the entire load in the washer into the dryer? Heck, no. Remember...I just snoozed until 6:20. And besides...who folds towels at 6:30 in the morning? Certainly not me. No, people....I dug through all the wet clothes in the washer, found one of my white shirts, chunked it in the dryer with the towels, and walked out the door an hour later wearing a white shirt with towel lint stuck to the arms. Because that's how I roll.

So everything was going as normal. Woke up late. Check. Laundry woes. Check. Kids ate healthy breakfast of Oreo poptarts and grape Koolaide. Check. Checked school email and found out that the science class pet is loose in the school. And it is a snake. Check.

Wait.

Say what?

Oh....that was my normal day turning into Code Red.

Or Code Green. For the garter snake named Rambo that is now loose in the school. And I don't like snakes. Pet ones named Rambo or not.

The email from our precious science teacher stated that Rambo was harmless. That he was small. And that he was "cute." Excuse me. Cute? Yes. She said "cute." And she asked that if we found Rambo wandering the halls to kindly call her, and she would come and get him.

Rambo.

All I can do is shake me head. And break out in cold sweats in my white tee. And hope that Rambo doesn't run up under my flip flop. Because Rambo would have to die.