It's stupid hot in Detroit. Husband, kids, cousins and uncle are back at Nonna's house to help in the yard. I'm having a blast waiting in two feet of shade on a bench outside the Sear's automotive center at the Macomb Mall. Why?
Because I simply cannot accept driving back to Bethlehem without air conditioning in the car. Yesterday's 10 hours was about as uncomfortable as it gets. The kids managed to get by with their movies. Steve took to most of the driving (again). My job was to stifle my whining as much as possible.
How is it that I cannot live without this creature comfort? Why will I put all of my time with family aside so I can sit on a concrete bench while I wait for an anonymous mechanic to be my savior?
There are so many things I should be doing instead of blogging and flicking off the 28th fish fly off my screen.
Here's how I will find my "happy switch":
I will begin to contract a time line and priority list for the many items on my work list from scratch. Since all my notes are not available, I will embrace the clean slate. Those thoughts that resonate the loudest or most frequently circle my mind will get first attention when I return to work.
I will do this all the while keeping various happy pop song lyrics in my head.
Then I will imagine an organized shopping list so I'm ready to breeze through an unfamiliar grocery store on my way back to the house, being welcomed as a conquering hero.
My happy switch was just shut off by the service rep at the second place I took the car today- they can't fix the AC either.
Finding my happy switch will take a huge effort now.
We're driving back home with no a/c.
I'm not going back a hero.
After switching back to "parent in charge" so other can take a grocery break, I have a chance to watch Nonna sleeping in her hospital bed. Pictures of her adoring children are displayed in their regular places. One of her oil paintings hangs nearby. Her sisters also live in the house, each one has nursing care. Aunt Ernie is 89. She is just beginning her memory loss. She's asked me how old my children are about 9 times since last night. Angie is 73; one of the oldest Downs Syndrome people I have ever known.
While the kids play in the sprinkler, I stay inside to soak in the scene.
These ladies are possibly the most beautiful people I have met.
I have found my happy switch.
#16 of 90in90 for #LUBlogTribe