Blasting Through Road Blocks

It never fails. Once I decide I’m going to do something positive in my life, things start going horribly wrong. Save money? A forgotten debt from 1998 suddenly resurfaces. Go to Bible Study? Car tires go flat. Go on a diet? Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around. Start walking? It rains for two weeks straight.  Quit smoking?  The house burns down and the stress rate goes through the roof (if I had one.)

None of these things are permanent. They are simply roadblocks thrown up just long enough for me to lose my resolve and think encouraging thoughts like, “What’s the point? I’ll always be broke, spiritually lacking,  fat, and gasping for breath.”

Who or what is responsible?  Bad luck? Fate?  Murphy’s Law?  Brownies? (Creature, not yummy chocolate heaven, though that would fit in with the losing weight issue.) The Devil? (My personal belief.)  Or this guy?

Gremlins 2 Image via My Existenz

Either way, when I made an official declaration last week to get my house in order, I expected some interference.  I had no idea.

Monday.  The number one goal was to have stress-free mornings with no yelling.  The laying out of things the night before went well.  Aside from a hidden shoe, that wasn’t a problem.  The problem was a faulty awaking apparatus, i.e. my cell phone.  Monday morning it didn’t go off.  Rather, it went off, but it was set to silent.  Luckily, DH gets up at 6:45 (5 minutes before scheduled departure) and woke me up.  I was waking children, making coffee (absolute necessity, no matter how late), fixing bowls of cereal, changing a diaper, and corralling everyone into the car–all while trying NOT to yell.  I succeeded, for the most part.  We left at 7:15.  The middle schoolers were late and I made it in to work with seconds to spare.

Tuesday.  Alarm goes off, after checking it wasn’t on silent the night before, only this time I don’t hear it until it’s well into the snooze cycle.  Still better than Monday–we had 15 minutes before departure.)  I didn’t yell at the kids.  I waited until they were in the car and yelled at DH, who hadn’t done anything wrong.  But them’s the breaks when you’re married to me.   The middle schoolers were late.  Again.  Tardy #2 in week 2, with 5 tardies resulting in ISS (in-school suspension.)  My kids were not happy.  This time I’m 5 minutes late for work.  I was not happy.  But it was a relaxing day at the beach compared to my afternoon.

While waiting in the car line at the primary school, my foot slipped off the brake.  My land yacht lurched forward, hitting the car in front of me–the brand new 2012 Hyundai Elantra the driver had owned for exactly one month.  The damage was light.  My front license plate screws left two small dimples in the bumper.  I thought it added character.  Who doesn’t love dimples?  Apparently, the owner of said Hyundai Elantra.

I spent 3o minutes on the phone with my insurance company (who I’ve only been with for 6 months.  Can you say rate hike?) while all the other moms drove by and stared.  I picked up my daughter, who was waiting with the secretary who had to wait for me before she could leave.  Now I’m starting to ruin other people’s days.

Wednesday.  We get out of the house (no yelling) on time.  Everybody gets to school and work with time to spare.  The ride home is uneventful, aside from the fact I’m praying I don’t see the dimpled Hyundai in the car line.  I don’t.  Is the curse over? Come on, now.  This is me we’re talking about.  We leave for church (35 minutes away) for our monthly supper (yum) and to pick up a working refrigerator.  Did I forget to mention our 2nd fridge of the week wasn’t working?  We got to church–late, of course–and there was no food left for the FIRST TIME EVER in the HISTORY of Wednesday Night Suppers.  Wasted time.  Wasted gas.  But we did get the fridge…and it doesn’t work right, either.  But hey, who needs completely frozen ice?

Thursday.  We leave early.  Work is good.  Then, in my exhausted state, I go the wrong way on the Interstate on the way home.  No biggie.  I just get off at the next exit–12 FREAKIN’ MILES down the road!  By the time I get back to the point I got on the interstate, we would’ve been home.  When I get to my exit, I get stuck by a train for 15 minutes.  I spent almost 4 HOURS in my car on Thursday.

Friday.  Everything goes according to plan.  Surely, this is the end of my trials?

Saturday.  The day I vowed to go nowhere and do nothing.  A little trip to the Wal-Mart surely wouldn’t be a big deal?  The plan was to meet DH at the Wal-Mart and get some much-needed shopping done.  I went to the Wal-Mart and waited.  And waited.  Annoyed, I called DH.  Turns out, I was waiting at the WRONG Wal-Mart.  Grumbling, I got in the car and went to meet DH.  We met and there was a problem.  It’s too convoluted to explain, but it has to do with a weirdly written check from our Electric Company–a donation after our house fire.  Long story short, it was a no-go (3rd attempt, mind you)  and we left, empty-handed and vowing never to return to Wal-Mart again.  Suuure.

Image via

After that ordeal, I was dying of thirst.  So I stopped off at a gas station that has the cherry flavoring you can add to diet coke (yummy).  And, wouldn’t you know it?  They were out.  So I bought the darn diet coke, sans cherry goodness, and trudged home, royally ticked off and biting my tongue.

Sunday.  We were up, fed, dressed, and in the car on time this morning.  Then we got stuck behind a train and were 15 minutes late for church.  Now I’m in my pajamas, foregoing the Sunday nap tradition (what if I overslept?!), and wondering what’s in store for the return trip to church for Children’s Choir tonight.  What else does The Devil have in store for me?

Whatever it is, I don’t care.  Because you know what?  I’m not thinking, “What’s the point?”    I’m thinking, “Bring it.”  This woman has had enough cowering, settling, and resigning.  This time, I’m not going to let a few thousand set-backs distract me from my goals.  I can do this.  I am doing this.

The Devil can go to Hell.


12 thoughts on “Blasting Through Road Blocks

  1. So am I to understand that the Power Company gave a Charitable Donation to you in the form of a check that has BOUNCED 3 times? Did you deposit it into your account or are you attempting to cash it at your bank or What is going on with it ? Take it to Their bank – better yet, get the banks phone number and call ever so often to find out if they have the funds to cover the check. and make a Bee Line up there to get it cashed. How about simply calling management and letting them know their check is no good ! Come On The Devil can go to Hell, let’em see your resolve. . . . .

  2. I know exactly what you mean. It happens every single time to me also. Like clock work. But I learned a new thing just recently. See I have a three strike rule.. if three things go bad in a row I take that to be fates (gods leading) indication to turn back. So while checking out a new flea market some guy pulled in front of me and I had to slam on my brakes so hard that now I need to buy new brakes and drums. The wheels squeek in a really embarasing way and who knows when Ill be able to fix it. That was the third strike.

    So anyway… I was telling a friend of mine about my three strike rule and that this was why I would never go to that flea market. He said it was dumb superstition. So just this once I went against my own judgement and went back there anyway. Since doing that.. my life has been so blessed in so many ways that would not have happened if I had not gone back. So perhaps it wasnt fates leading, but just as you say… the other guy whos name I won’t mention.

    Long comment anyone? heheh sorry.

    • I don’t mind long comments, especially when they’re this good. 🙂

      On the surface, a three strike rule looks pretty good. Deep down, it’s only the ugliness of fear and complacency. I’m glad you had a friend to show you the error of your ways. And I’m glad you shared so I can remember this when the “other guy” starts messing with me again (and he will, I’m sure.)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s