I love my drive to work!
My school is about 13 miles away. Just about a 16 minute drive. Enough time to "Get my head in the game."
This morning's drive was fabulous! I was jamming to my favorite Mamma Mia! song (When all is said and done), singing my heart out, and knowing that this was going to be a GREAT Monday.
Three miles out--BAMM! A bird crashed into my windshield wiper.
Accckkkkkk. Iiiiiiiiccccccck. Aaaaaaaaaaa!
It would not leave. Oh no--is this my day now?
How in the world am I going to get this bird off my windshield, and by me I mean -- who else will do it for me?
Remember--I have a flaw. I do not like mice. Or other normal farm animals that move rapidly or unexpectedly. This bird was unexpected.
Maybe I could get Mrs. Jones or Mrs. Roux to get it off for me...
But as soon as I set a foot into the school I promptly forgot about the bird. I didn't even remember it when I went out to dismiss the kids at the end of the day.
Until I was headed out at 5 pm. Walking toward the van I started thinking about what it might look like (if I was brave and looked), what it might smell like (it was 95 degrees today--enough to cook that bird), and how was I going to get rid of it.
It was there, I glanced. Left it. Drove home.
Called the menfolk to meet me in the driveway.
Convinced one of them to remove the bird. He got it as far as under the front wheel and left it.
Got a different menfolk to move it to underneath some trees.
Now, who will wash the fluid streak that is on my windshield?