After all "poop" allegations were cleared, and Little Monkey was proven innocent, we were off to a great start!
The rest of the morning was rather uneventful. We ate way too many doughnuts, the cat got outside and brought back in approximately one million times, and a rodent specialist gave us some "good" news and some "bad" news (which in reality was all bad news because...rodents!). I think we can save some exterminator fees if we just let the cat stay out ;-).
This afternoon, as obligatory towers of dark, forbodding Central Florida rain clouds chased us down the interstate to an "activity" one of our monkeys was auditioning for, I felt the barometric pressure dropping in conjunction with my patience.
When we arrived at the venue, there was no parking to be had except for a teeny, tiny space that I just barely managed to squeeze our non-compact vehicle into. We shimmied in between the yellow lines just as a loud thunder clap smacked the air. It was then that I realized we had parked in a "no no" zone.
I rushed our monkey into the audition and ran back to move my naughty vehicle which was now blocked in by some itsy-bitsy roller skate car. After making a twenty-seven point turn and witnessing a homeless man wake up from his nap, I managed to maneuver my vehicle out without hitting the roller skate and relocate it to a more appropriate parking spot.
As I proceeded back to the place where our monkey was well into her audition, I was pelted by sand being whipped off of a nearby construction site by the gale force winds kicked up by the storm. A bolt of lightening struck so close that I smelled ozone and maybe some maple bacon.
As I hurried back into the lobby of the building where my monkey was, I was so relieved to not be exfoliated by sand anymore, thankful to not have been electrocuted, and slightly hungry after smelling bacony ozone that I failed to recognize the look of disdain on the receptionist's face. She promptly snapped me back into reality, by informing me that the lobby with the long black bench and an addition chair could not accommodate guests. I was so taken off guard that I just blinked stupidly at her for a second or two. I could feel sand between my toes, my teeth and my eyeballs. By this time, the floodgates of Hades had opened outside and something primal opened inside of me. I honed in on the receptionist and informed her that I would indeed be staying or my monkey and I would be leaving together immediately. Then I proceeded to sit my sandy, slightly-bloated-from-mass-consumption-of-doughnuts self on the long black guest
-less bench and waited for my monkey.
If life gives you sand, it stinks.
Hugs,
Melissa
