Monday, July 21, 2014


spider web on our awning
Left Brain and I are the type of people that like to arrive on time, if not a bit on the early side. 

We've always felt that those who habitually run late are showing sides of rudeness.

As a consequence we have often arrived too early for an event or party and find ourselves parking a block or two away reading until the actual time of the invitation arrives.  

More than once we have had concerned homeowners approach the car to ask if we are all right, but I think their real concern is that we were casing the joint.  

If there was a thing as "fashionably early" we would qualify for the term.  As a result of this lifestyle we often find ourselves waiting, but last Saturday was the worst experience I've had in a long time.

Now, you have to keep in mind that I sometimes forget what date it is and what state I'm living in.  Heck, on a bad day I'm not sure of my name.  

The plan for Saturday was for Left Brain to drop me off at pickleball and I would play while he continued working on scraping and repainting the trim at our kids house.  I reminded him I wanted to be there for the very beginning of play because people tended to peter out around noon and nobody every stays until the 1:30 end time.

Heeding my advice, he dropped me off at the YMCA at 8:28 so I could get right in and start to play.  I was so excited the night before I could hardly sleep.  

I smiled and waved goodbye as I headed into the YMCA with my pickleball bag, money and Kindle Fire.  The Fire was in case he was late in picking me up at the agreed upon time of 12:30.

I handed the lady at the front desk my money and held my left hand out for my wristband when she looked at the clock and said I was a little early.  Pickleball doesn't start until 10:30.  Ooops.  I was remembering the play times from our stay in Florida.

Hoping to catch him before he got too far I frantically called Left Brain on his cell.  Straight to voice mail.  Tried it a second time with the same result.  Even tossed in a text message as a desperate measure.  He's gone.  I now have two hours to wait until people show up to play.

Trying to make the best of it I settled in on a nice hard plastic molded chair and attempted to enjoy reading my Kindle.  I tried not to look at my watch too often, but figured the time would fly by as I can get easily lost in a book.  The current story I was reading wasn't that good, and perhaps having the comfy chairs at home is a factor in the "time rushes by when I'm reading" sensation.  Five minutes had passed by. Groan.

After a seemingly unbearable wait it was finally 10:30 and I could now pay and really go in.  I'd only have two hours to play so I planned to play hard and get a good sweat going.  One of the other players was there, an 82 year man with a wicked forehand smash and we started to warm up.

Finally we took a break and he went out to the front office area to see if anyone else might be coming.  I took a second stab at the book, but sitting on a bleacher seat seemed even more uncomfortable than the rigid plastic torture devices in the open seating area.

Eventually another lady showed up and we went to work getting her warmed up so when the fourth person arrived we could get a game going.  Finally!   

After about 15 minutes it was becoming obvious that no one else was going to show up and they decided to leave.  It's now 11:15 and I have a little over an hour to wait until Left Brain comes back to rescue me.

The lady at the front desk was gracious and refunded our money since we never really got to play.  I took that money and since I still had a lengthy time to wait used it to purchase two pieces of the foulest pizza I've ever had the displeasure of eating.

Finally my knight in shining armor drove up and rescued me right on time and we headed home.  En route to the RV we stopped as the crossing arms came down and the lights were flashing at a railroad crossing.  We got pretty used to this while staying at Goose Island and were prepared to wait it out.  And wait we did.  For all six engines of the train to pull their long heavy load...from a dead stop.  We're talking slower than a Friday night in a one-horse town.

When we arrived back at our shady haven I opted to return to bed and take a short nap, hoping to wake up a second time to a better day.

Long Live the Queen of Anticipation


  1. ooh, sounds like a very long day!

  2. Oh, dang it. All of that and no pickleball. I know you were really looking forward to it, too. I hope you were able to salvage the day. I also hope you have better luck next time. Hug.

  3. Oh my, I feel so bad for you. I've had a few days like that myself, and I don't wish them on anyone. However, the up side is that it is one more little chapter in that book you are going to write. Actually, If I were you, I would have my blog printed into hard cover copies and save them for my family. I just know that many years down the road, your family will be having such wonderful times reading your the trials and tribulations of life with your sense of humor. Go for it my friend. You have a fabulous day, hugs, Edna B.