Lady in waiting...

....and waiting and waiting and waiting.

I had a few errands to run this afternoon. About 4 stops that should have taken 5 minutes each. Uh-huh. I decided to take MiddleSon along with me. I try to take just 1 kid with me on trips like this. A little quality time mixed in with some real life experience. Afterall, they'll have to go to the bank and the post office and the dry cleaners and the gas station on their own one day.

So the drive-thru bank window. Only two lanes, quite a few cars ahead of me. We wait ten minutes. I had to turn off the engine after two, or risk running out of gas (I knew I should've gone to the station first). I would've backed out, but there was already 2 cars behind me. Finally, there is one car left ahead of me. And they apparently have about 8 transactions to complete. Totally ignoring the big red sign that said "For more than three transactions, transactions with rolled coin, or business deposits, please use the inside lobby" This guy had all of this. Trust me, the weather was mild, my window was rolled down, and I could hear him complaining to the teller through the speaker that he had places to go already, what was the hold up?! When I finally got to the window my own business took about 2 minutes.

Next is the post office. I had 10 packages to drop off. These were all ready, and had the postage printed on them. All I had to do was set them on the counter and go. However, I like to make sure the clerks actually get them, so I always wait to hand them over. There is a long line. I have never been more proud of MiddleSon as we stood patiently. The first man in line was mailing in his taxes. He wanted to send them Priority, No Express Mail. Wait, he should probably insure that. Hang on, how much does registered mail cost? Do other people pay for registered mail? What sort of things do people mail that need to be insured and have a signature confirmation?

The next gentlemen in line had a stack of 4 or 5 smaller envelopes. While waiting on Mr. Tax Guy, he kept getting out of line to check out the postal mailing supplies. He'd pick something out. Put it back. Pick something different out. Put it back and grab the first thing again. Okay, I get that he couldn't make up his mind. However, when it was his turn at the counter, he had none of his envelopes addressed, and was still folding things to put in the envelopes. Dude, you just waited in line for ten minutes, you couldn't have taken care of that? He bought his stamps and mailing supplies and decided to stand right there by the clerk to fill out everything. I distinctly heard the sweet grandfatherly-looking gentleman behind me mutter "Come on, asshole" After a minute, the clerk saw this and asked him to step aside. He moved over a quarter of an inch. The next man was right in front of me. Thankfully, he was only buying a few stamps. Uh...not those ones. Do you have anything different? Ugh, is that all? Okay I'll take those first ones you showed me. I need 5. No, 6. (Clerk rips stamps out of a standard book) Actually, I better just buy a book. (Cashier hands over the book she had been tearing his stamps out of) Can I get a whole one? Thankfully, the cashier gives him the icy-glare-of-death and the man buys his not-quite-whole book of stamps. My turn! Clerks know me very well. They know that my postage is bought online and my packages are always ready to go. All they have to do is toss them in the outgoing bins. She looks, oddly, relieved to see me.

Okay, luckily the gas station is self-serve, I'm thinking at this point. No waiting on cashiers or other customers. There are 4 cars waiting. The other pump is out of order. Despite the line (or maybe because of it) things move quickly. Until the car ahead of me (of course. What else would you be thinking by now?) He has six 5-gallon containers in the bed of his truck to fill up. I decided that if I try really really hard, I can convince my car to run on fumes for a few more miles. The power of suggestion is a strong one indeed. I leave the gas station with MiddleSon asking nervously from the back seat, "Will we run out of gas again mom? Will dad have to come get us? Will we have to walk?!?!" He has been extraordinarily patient up to this point.

Normally, when Toddler-free, I like to take my time in the grocery store. Check out the sales and browse for a good deal. But because I am the mother of 3 children, I have learned to speed shop. I know where everything in the small store is and can buy a weeks' worth of groceries in 15 minutes. Luckily, I have no complaints about the store today. Until (you knew this was coming) I got into the parking lot. Very Nice Lady (VNL) was unloading her cart into her car at the same time I was. VNL was parked next to me. VNL remarked that the weather sure was unpredictable lately, but gee it was nice today. She hoped it would hold out. But no, it looked like it was going to rain. By now, my cart is unloaded, MiddleSon has returned it to the corral, and I have shut the trunk. I am fidgeting with the keys in my hand. I have the drivers door open and one leg in the car. VNL remarks how quiet and and well behaved MS is. I thank her, and say I better get home to fix some lunch. VNL says oh yes, she knows how growing boys are, eating all the time! Eat you out of house and home! She really is very nice, but I have already been gone an hour and have more to do. So I take my, "Oops my cell phone is ringing" escape route and duck into the car.

Back to the gas station......no cars! Yippee! I fill up my tank, which leaves me about $4.22 left in my checking account.

Drycleaners for some dress clothes I will be selling. I have my ticket. I have my money. But I have no patience left. And of course, the drycleaners is closed for lunch. I absolutely have to get these clothes today so that I can get them sold. I make a plan. Not the smartest or best thought out, but it is a plan nonetheless. I decide to try and drop Son and groceries off at home and then swing back to the cleaners. All the while trying to avoid letting Toddler see that mommy's car is in the driveway. When I get home, Toddler finally notices that I have been gone. Without him! (I'd snuck out so he wouldn't see me go, I am a bad mom). Oh the horror! The terrible horrible unadulterated PG13 horror! Toddler throws a fit. I give up. The drycleaning can wait until another day.

So I am home. I am tired. And I realize I forgot to buy milk. And mail the bills out. And take my mother's tupperware back. There's always tomorrow.....