So let me try to explain my day, in three steps since it is Three on Thursday.
1. I'd had one of those nights where I just couldn't calm my brain and it was after 6:30 a.m. when I finally went to bed. Around 9:00 a.m., I hear my husband stomping down the hallway and into the bedroom where he begins to shout at me to get up. Our son is in jail.
What?? Jail? WHAT?? No! NO!! No! *^$;%$^&@#* Dammit! While I'm not normally verbal in the morning, the language started spewing.
My baby! My little baby boy (my little baby who happens to be in his mid 20's) in jail! No! NO!! No! *^$;%$^&@#* Dammit!
So Mike starts explaining how an elderly family member with some memory problems, who will go unnamed to protect the innocent, had called Mike to report that Zack had called them from jail. He'd been drinking, got in wreck, gotten arrested, thrown in jail and needed bail. But they didn't know which jail.
So, right there, we should have known something wasn't right with the story but when you're told your kid is in jail for something so *^$;%$^&@#* stupid, you tend to react rather than think.
So while I tossed on some clothes and brushed my teeth, Mike began searching online trying to figure out what jail Zack was in. Apparently there's a website. You have to search by individual jail, but you can check to find out if your child, who is in SO much *^$;%$^&@#* trouble, is there. We couldn't find him. He could have been anywhere when he wrecked. He travels a lot for bowling tournaments and general fun, boy adventures. Who knew where he was?
So while we were frantically searching jails, we were also thinking about what Zack's, and our, future might look like. I hate to admit that we were thinking about finances in that situation but.... Was Zack hurt? What kind of medical bills would he be facing? Was Zack driving his old, beat up truck or his girlfriend's new car? Was the girlfriend with him? Was she injured? Who'd he hit? How badly were they hurt? Did he hit another car or just a ditch/tree....? What legal fees for the DUI would he face.... All of that was running through our heads while we searched, along with visions of Zack's sweet face bruised and bloodied. Not to mention the thoughts of how tightly I'd hug him once we found him. And how as soon as I'd hugged him, I was going to stab him in the eye with my knitting needle for doing something so stupid as drinking and driving. This total panic went on for almost three hours while we searched and searched.
And then we got the brilliant idea to call his cell phone.
And Zack answered. After a few weird moments of "You got something you want to tell us boy?" and "I don't think so." responses, and Zack starting to freak out a little bit about what the hell we were talking about and us realizing that he was okay... and at work, not jail... We realized that the dear family member had simply been confused and the entire story was made up. Made up! Zack was not and had never been in jail.
Oh. My. God! The day will be forever known as The Day Zack Did Not Go to Jail. I still get a little shaky just thinking about it.
2. So after that fun and exciting way of waking up after only 2 1/2 hours of sleep.... I decided to calm my nerves with a little knitting. I've been knitting another diagonally striped, queen sized bed blanket out of Kroy sock yarn. I don't think I've mentioned it here on the blog yet, but I've been working on it here and there since before Christmas.
I started wondering if it was anywhere close to long enough and laid it out on the bed to check.
And I immediately had another curse fest. No! NO!! No! *^$;%$^&@#* Dammit!
Have you ever knit a diagonally striped blanket, or any kind of rectangle? You know how once you get the width you want, you have to start decreasing on one side while continuing to increase on the other to get the rectangle shape? Well, I hadn't done that. I'd simply stopped doing any shaping at all. No! NO!! No! *^$;%$^&@#* Dammit!
|Sixteen inches of fabric removed from my Kroy blanket.|
I took the scissors to it, cut off about sixteen inches of knitting, sixteen inches of fingering weight garter stitch, and cursed. And tried not to cry. And slowly and painfully picked up all the loose stitches and started knitting again. Apparently, I created my own sock blank.
3. Having a total pity party melt down, I texted my husband and told him to bring home comfort food. He brought frozen pizza and a chocolate pie. We ate three quarters of that pie ourselves.
No! No! No! I have to fit into my work uniform soon. *^$;%$^&@#* Dammit!