I just couldn’t seem to string all my beads together last night.  It doesn’t help when you’re met at the door with a math word problem.

Perhaps some details are in order.

Apparently it was a busy day at the house as Melissa tried to orchestrate a week’s worth of chores into a single day since she is secretly dreaming of a short getaway during spring break.  We haven’t taken an actual vacation in over two years since the kids are always doing something and we can’t quite seem to all have days off at the same time.  So when I asked how the day went, I was greeted with something like this…

“Well if Evan leaves Boston on a train going 60 miles an hour and Erin leaves New York on a train going 55 miles an hour and we buy one ticket on the last day of the month and wait and buy the second ticket on the first day of the next month to get the maximum points, then do you think we should put the car into the shop tonight or wait until the next winter solstice?”

Not exactly that but something like that.

The fact was that I wanted to go hear a friend play guitar at a coffee shop from 7 till 9 and only wanted to get dinner out of the way so that I could go do that.  We worked out the quantum electrodynamics problem to everyone’s satisfaction (meaning that a compromise was reached that annoyed all parties the least but did not really make anybody truly happy) and had dinner. 

By this time it was 7:00 and we had not yet moved from the house.  We were almost ready to head to the coffee shop when Mel came down with a stomach ache.  After waiting a bit, she decided to stay home and sent me on alone.  I got there at 8:00 sharp.

They were packing up their instruments and sweeping the floor.

It seems I had my times wrong.  It was not 7:00 to 9:00.  It was 6:00 to 8:00.  Doh!

I failed to mention that we had not  yet shopped for groceries this week and were supposed to do that afterwards.  There’s something deflating about missing an event due to lunacy and so we just dropped everything and sat around till bedtime.  Mel and Evan did in fact drop the car off at the repair shop and shoved the key through the drop box so at least there’s that.

I’m not sure it was a drop box though.  Evan said that it was less a mail slot and more of a mangled rip in the steel next to the door.  Perhaps we should call them to make sure they got the key.