The Day the Wheels Came Off (and the Cat Hair Stayed On)

 We’re walking into the Cap'n chaos concert and Brandy noticed Cat hair all over the back of my black slacks. Cat hair. Everywhere.  

I  look like I rolled down a hill made of long haired Persians.

Rob: “Did you sit on the cat’s couch?” (Important note: the cat has its own couch. Of course it does.)

Me “NO.”

Rob, already committed to the mission: “Brandy Brush off your mom’s butt.”

Brandy: “I’m not brushing off my mom’s butt.”

Rob: “Really? You think it would be more appropriate for Sir WhatTheHeck or ME to brush your mom’s butt?”

  At this point, the entire family is standing in a circle debating who should de fur my backside like it’s a sacred ritual.

  “Someone just brush off my butt — I don’t care who does it.”

This is where the wheels come off, roll into traffic, and cause a five car pileup of laughter.

Brandy: “I left my phone at home. With our tickets.”

So back we go.

  They get back in the car, Rob turns to me like Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther.  With a cartoonish, theatrical French accent—"Do you know where we found ze telephone? Any guezzez Miss Geannii? Specifically Mema?

   I’m thinking I am so guilty, but what did I do?

   “Ve found it in ze bag of Yourz.”

  I’m laughing so hard I nearly have tears. I do remember dropping it in my bag. I thought it was Van’s old phone and just tossed it in like it was a loose sticker sheet.

  I do not have dementia, I will deny this in court. 

Then I confessed, again declaring I do not have dementia, BUT...I opened the gate to go to church Wed. night, walked over to get the mailbox,  and saw JoDee had something from her insurance. I stood there debating whether it was important enough to take to her right then or if it could wait. I shut the gate behind me… and only then realized my car was still inside the gate while I was outside it. Just me, the mail, and my car staring at me like, “Really?” I swear, if anyone had seen me, they’d call the men in little white coats. Brandy declared that I do NOT have dementia

  The choir was high school level — bless their hearts — but Cap''n Chaos was in it, and that’s all that mattered. Sir WhatTheHeck, meanwhile, was groaning like someone was stepping on his musical soul. Every time a note went sideways, he made a face like he’d been personally wronged. I was laughing silently, because watching him suffer through these songs was its own entertainment. 

By the time we got home, we didn’t even pretend to be functional humans. We went straight to bed. No talking, no processing, no nothing. Just collapse. This whole day — from the cat hair to the phone in my bag to the concert we were late for even when we were early — is one for the books. My circus. My monkeys. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade a single one of them.