Me, myself and my subconscious

I drove Miss Crazy to work this morning. For the first time since her cataract surgery 2+ weeks ago she actually felt her vision was good enough to drive, but, since I had an appointment to get my hair cut at 7:45 (this was made back when it appeared I would be Driving Miss Crazy for a while), I was behind the wheel. The entire drive to school my subconscious is nagging me.

Subconscious: "Are you sure your appointment w/ Vickie is today?"

Me: "yes I'm sure"

*silence*

Subconscious: "Ok, but I mean are you REALLY sure? It's a Monday and..well..."

Me: "Yes I'm sure and I remember BECAUSE it's a Monday. Because next week would be the 17th and the week after that is Christmas Eve. Perfect timing."

Subconscious: "Hey, you're the boss"

Me: "This is an appointment to Get My Hair Done. This isn't a wedding or a birthday or an anniversary or donating a kidney. This is IMPORTANT!!"

Subconscious: "Whatever you say. Whoa! STOP SIGN!! STOP SIGN!! BRAKES!!! BRAAAAAAAKES!!"

I'm proud of my mad multi-tasking skills and for arranging this appointment at 7:45 because I pull into the parking lot (after dropping Miss Crazy off) at 7:38.

I'm too busy gloating to myself to notice that the parking lot is empty. Biz-Marie is dark, no sign of life.

Subconscious: "I told..."

Me: "Shut up! I'm early! That's all."

I remember that Vickie has started taking appointments as early as 7a.m. and even if she didn't have one that early, surely the shop would be open by now. Or at least a car in the parking lot....

Subconscious: "So hotshot, wanna check that date?"

Me: "Hey, I know. Why don't you make yourself useful and remember where they serve those really awesome chicken pot pies?"

I open my checkbook and sure enough, there in big capital letters is 12/11 7:45 VICKIE

12/11. Tuesday. Of course. I now vaguely remember the knowledge that Vickie & Co. don't work Mondays. {mental head slap}

Still, the morning wasn't a complete wash. Since my Dr's office is right across the street I was able to get there early enough, without an appointment, to get her to sign a sheet telling the school system I don't have leprosy or any other communicable disease so the system won't take my name off the substitute teacher list. There's a recipe for disaster. Miss Crazy: I need you to sub. for me tomorrow. Me: Yeah...about that...

Now y'all know I talk to myself constantly and that my subconscious, more often than not, has an attitude.

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