Don’t fret……….yet

From back in the late Summer and into early Autumn

I dive into the house weighed down with several tones of groceries that will pre-cook in the car if I don't off-load them before the school run. I have approximately 20 minutes to put away the shopping, clear the decks and prepare my brain.

As we only have cats, I worry unduly about the dog deposit on the lawn, as it's evidence of a breach of security rather than an additional chore. I am in mid freezer pack when I glance out of the window to see half a dozen semi clad youthful persons, together with their cars and several miles of open sleeping bags strewn across the drive way. My daughter has returned from her latest camping expedition. Her pals are also tree hugger types, immune to skin cancer, tidiness and laundry. Bronzed flesh, string sandals, dark locks and lashes, all a flutter between the young men and women determined to jeopardize my school run dash because they are an in-betweeny generation; childless and without any other notable responsibility other than continued growth. How can I reverse out of the garage with a hundred square foot of personal detritus scattered all over the tarmac?

I worry a tad about the missing Pokemon and Webkinz collections, as they are essential homework tools and I cannot imagine to where they have disappeared, en masse, without warning. I worry a smidge that the bikes will rust as they lie abandoned over the newly fully functioning sprinkler heads, as I just haven't squeezed in a dash to the garden today.

I worry a smatter that I haven't even considered implementing a comprehensive 'put your bikes away after use' campaign. I assume this is because I am still too stunned to appreciate that cycling has become part of our daily routine. No longer allergic to 'outside,' now addicted to exercising by bike.

I worry, but not unduly, that I shall forget to go out and hunt down 7 abandoned banana skins somewhere in the garden. Although al fresco eating was the original plan, I never imagined it would spread to snacks.

I worry a jot or two, but not unduly that I shall not be able to think of an alternative supper now that the tomatoes have all been squished by over enthusiastic cyclists. I consider the tomato tromping, with bare feet, akin to a wine maker's skill. An indication that the de-sensitization campaign for tactile defensiveness has been in part, generalized.

I believe it is entirely possible that I'll just keel over, overwhelmed, out scheduled and de-campainged. They'll find my inert body hours from now, stretched out on the floor from a stress induced heart attack brought on by ever mounting shock waves of 'new.' They'll all be completely bewildered. But you'll put them straight, right?

p.s. Obviously unnecessary, as it November so clearly I survived unscathed.

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