Seriously?

Once again, I thought I was being punked, or was on Candid Camera. Seriously, why do these things happen to me?

At the end of the Indiana Homeschool Convention, I traipsed to the ladies room before packing up by booth. There was one stall door in there that didn’t match the others. It was brown, obviously a replacement, and the rest were beige. Not only did the lone door make me want to sing “One of these things is not like the other” but it was the only gateway that didn’t rest in the closed position. All the beige doors looked like they were locked, even when they were guarding a vacant stall.

For some strange reason, I chose the loner door at 6:05 on Saturday night. As I entered my chosen throne room, I surmised, “This must be the most used stall because you have to bend over and look for shoes surrounded by pant legs to see if the others are available.” That should have been a clue to me. But no. I was a tad on the tired side… tuckered out… to say the least. I had just finished speaking six times. I LOVE speaking, but it can be draining.

Well, I was right. It WAS the most used stall and guess what it was plumb out of?????  Yep. TP.

It was too late for me to re-choose a new stall by the time I figured out my dilemma. Good gravy. Surrounded by silence, I wondered if I was alone in the bathroom. Oh, dear baby Jesus, please no.

Feebly I made public my private situation, “Help!”

No response.

With a little more gusto, “HELP! Is anyone out there?”

A lone woman was with me, and probably trying to ignore the first call for assistance. Her entire response was, “Yes.” Seriously? Couldn’t she have asked what I needed? Or how she could help? But I guess she did answer my question.

Pleading, I requested that she hand me some toilet paper. “Sure.” My prayers were being answered. I heard toilet paper being removed from a receptacle in another stall. Then my guardian angel asked which stall I was in… because the only one that stays open was shut and locked in front of my nose and knees.

Sticking my hand out under the door, she placed the golden paper in my fist…. all three squares of it. Seriously? At first I thought it was funny. Personally, I have handed my daughter two squares when she asked for help in my same precarious position. BUT THEN I HANDED HER A WAD and we laughed!

My guardian angel left. Exited the lavatory. The exterior door shutting behind her was the last noise heard in the bathroom… until I started laughing. Seriously?

I folded those three precious squares very carefully.  VERY carefully.

But it was not Candid Camera. I did not get punked. It was real life in a day of Laughing with Linda. I’m thankful I can provide entertainment for others.

You’re welcome.

Jury Duty, My Nemesis

Since it’s been 18 months and zero days since my last jury duty, the flimsy white postcard arrived in the mail as scheduled announcing my day(s) off from homeschooling! Yay!

It’s that weird season between Thanksgiving and Christmas when most homeschool mamas are torn between math and cocoa with whipped cream. Grammar and Elf. History and fuzzy socks and a snuggly blanket and a good Christmas storybook. Turning on the heater or playing wii Dance 2 for P.E.

Needless to say, I wasn’t super disappointed to be leaving my children unattended for a day or three. (This will be our little secret, k?) My remaining offspring are 13 and 18 and fully self-reliant… with eating and staying alive. Not so resilient with doing school work unsupervised, but hey, it’s December. (Well in three days it’s December, but close enough to already have Christmas cheer!) And lying cozy and warm in your bed reading a fantastic book for hours IS school! Yep!

The day started off with a BANG! From the short walk from the shuttle bus to the front of the court house, I crossed paths with a very angry black woman who spewed, “White supremacists!” to me and my fellow non-assuming, white, middle-aged, minding-our-own-business jurors. Her words literally shocked me. My mouth dropped open. Turning to the lady walking right behind me I shared, “I have never been called that before!” She hadn’t either. Wow! I felt sorry for the name-calling woman. To harbor that much anger must make life horrible! I thought of singing Christmas carols to bring up the Christmas cheer but she walked off too rapidly for my first tune to commence. Joy to the World would have been top of my chart.

Being a returning expert to jury duty, I arrived on time. Signed in and got my sticker badge. Most of my morning was spent reading two months of text messages and trying to figure out who was the other texter. I lost all my contacts on my phone except those who left text messages… but they were nameless numbers. For two hours I READ texts from September 26 to November 28 and tried to remember who I had that conversation with followed by typing in every blinking name. When would I have had time to do that if not for jury duty? Thank you, Madison Court House!

Finally I sat working at a desk until my name was announced. Dang it. I have heard rumors of people getting the notice and sitting in the waiting area ALL DAY. Think of it! ALL DAY pretty much alone to read or look up papier mache Christmas ornaments on Pinterest or make grocery lists or doodle or nap or knit. Sugary bliss! But no.

My juror number this time, out of 40, was 2. Not good. The chances of numbers 30-40 getting selected, in my vast experience, are slim to none. But I was hopeful of being dismissed just by my explanation of what my husband does for work. The trial involved police, so I was sure to mention that Rick flies for Department of Public Safety… the governor, SWAT teams, prisoner transfers and photography… and has for worked for the State of AZ for 17 years. (So the 17 years didn’t always include DPS but I could have clarified if needed.)

This is not my first jury rodeo! (It’s my second.) So I had a much firmer grasp on my emotions as fellow jurors gave feeble attempts at being excused. There was no rolling of my eyes. There were no bursts of laughter like last time. I didn’t even snicker when an elderly gentleman raised his hand and urgently told the judge, “I have to go to the bathroom so bad I can’t think straight!”

The process of jury selection was much quicker this time around and there weren’t sob stories of abuse that we had to endure, thankfully. We returned from lunch and nine jurors were selected just like that. No questioning of any of us from the attorneys. Two minutes after lunch, the rest of us received our Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card. BAM! Civic service done! Bring on the eggnog!

December 2016 I will look for my $23 fuel reimbursement check in the mailbox!

May 2018 I will look for the little, flimsy white postcard in the mailbox announcing my next half day off!  Whoo Hoooo!

The TP Nazi Rises Again

The TP Nazi topic has come up here before.  Yes, I am the TP Nazi in this house…. and any other house where I am staying long enough for more than one sit down.  But for today, I shall leave alone the topic of which way the paper rolls off the roll.

Today’s topic: empty cardboard rolls and the uncaring, or possibly unaware, people who leave them in their wake.  GAH!  I am pretty sure that I am the only one in our family of SIX who places the new roles on the dispenser in our downstairs Elvis bathroom.  What I am not sure about is how it is always perfectly the right amount of TP for the last person…. makes me wonder…. did they plan it? Did they skimp?  Probably none of my business, I know.

Even in our master bedroom bath, my sweet husband does get a new roll of TP out of the cupboard, but leaves it on the floor right under where it should be placed on the roller.  It’s OKAY!  I’m here.  I got it!  Please don’t go through any extra effort while you’re in there.  Relax. I got your back.  From my childhood, I remember my father calling this the “height of laziness.”  Wise man.

Yesterday, however, I was shopping at a mom and pop used bookstore for about two hours and I needed to visit their facilities. Low an behold… the cardboard roll was waiting for me, making me feel at home in this home away from home.  After digging through their supply closet, I restocked the dispenser and went on my happy way, knowing that I just made life easier for another person and had done my job that I’m called to do here on earth.

Seriously, if I didn’t spend my time as the TP Nazi, there would be empty rolls all over the Valley of the Sun!  If you go into a bathroom in Phoenix and the roll is new and coming over the top, know that I was there before you and thought of you.  :o)  You’re welcome, people.

My Third Most Embarrassing Moment

I’m still not to the place in my life where I can write about my first and second most embarrassing moments of my entire life, but I CAN face my fears and post my third most embarrassing moment for all the world to read.  It helps that it is so fresh in my mind.  It occurred only last month at church.

It was a Sunday morning and the service was over.  It is a 30 minute drive home, so I decided to visit the ladies room before our journey.  I emerged from the stall and was washing my hands and visiting with another gal when one of my daughter’s friends came in and a comical, yet horrified look arose on her face when she saw me.  A bit out of the ordinary for her, but not totally surprising to me.

At that point, the other gal pointed to my backside and asked if the toilet seat cover was supposed to be sticking out of the top of my skirt….. sweet mother of Moses…. I’m SO glad she said something before I left the bathroom to have my extra appendage witnessed by the entire universe. 

BUT, I knew my secret would not be kept behind tight lips… being that it was a 15-year-old friend of my daughter who was allowed to live after being an eye witness.  True to form, I received an email the next week from the girl’s mother asking about my wearing of toilet seat covers.  She wished she could’ve been there to see it for herself.  I wish she had have been there too, because she’s the type that would’ve laughed hard enough to need Depends. THEN who would’ve been laughing!?

Thank God for friends who help us in our time of need.  :o)