By external interference
"Maybe" turned into Pittsburgh, which I think surprised even me. But when the spouse called me to say that one of his cases was going to trial on the 20th and he had to be available to testify, I was left to salvage what I could from the month.
And that was Pittsburgh.
I returned at 11 Friday morning, brain saying "only last night? Really?" as I reeled with exhaustion (I'll sleep when I'm dead, which at this rate...). When I went to pick up the kids from school, J. caught me up--we haven't seen each other since the end of last school year--and reported to me that one of the teachers had cornered her about being room mother.
To which she replied, she'd "do it if Mrs. S. is room mother" with her.
I blinked at her.
"I'll call you," she said, gaily. "We'll work it out."
This is my life: loud music in far away cities by night; room mother by day.
It's the last possible year I can be a room mother.
It means planning this year's graduation.
The show was awesome; they are never anything but awesome. Sometimes, the audience is a bit challenging, and this night, the man to my left took up all his space and half of mine, and gave off an overwhelming miasma of cheap beer and unwashed human. I was pretty squashed, which was both uncomfortable and really distracting for the first five or six songs but fortunately for me, he seemed to prefer sitting, so I got a little breathing space after a bit. At that point, I was able to get more into the spirit of things.
Because, really: Best. Band. Ever.
They would have to be. Airplanes!
Go listen to some good music: "Vital Signs" from the album Moving Pictures by Rush. Pittsburgh was an interesting trip, and I'm still sorting it. And I hit the ground running when I got back, of course. Room mother. For crying out loud.