Nicole and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good ......

You get the drift.

Yesterday I woke up. I wanted to sleep late but my body was too stiff. I'm getting older. I thought. Nope..it's just all this humidity. I bet there's no humidity in San Francisco.

I straggled to the kitchen, but the coffee was almost gone. I tried to make some more...but the grounds had hit the floor. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Austen is sick. So we will not be going out. Big B wants to wake him up to work. No! I tell him. Just let him be.

He might want to work. Big B insists. I'll just wake him up and ask. (sigh) B is not listening..
I bet they would listen to me in San Francisco.

I'm going to cook..a lot. I pronounce. What for? the family asks
Because we like to eat?! I respond.
Mm..they look at each-other conspiratorily.
I thought you hated to cook. Says Big B.
I mean..like..didn't you just burn the fish sticks?

They are not very nice, this family of mine. Do they want to cook? No they do not...they have chickens to clip, wicker to paint and holes to dig (later). I need some money for groceries.I say.
I know my family would not be busy with chickens and holes in San Francisco.

Brian and I go to the bank to cash a check. We cannot cash this. They say. Your license is expired and the new one has not come in.

I know. Says Big B. That's why I also have the paper copy. DPS is backed up..it's on the news and everything.

Nope. Says the banker with a smirk on his face. So you mean to say that the current paper version from the state of Texas with the old license will not suffice? I ask, to clarify. The banker roles his eyes. Maybe some places..but not here.

It takes a few hours, but the check is finally cashed. Finally. I think. I am off to SA..to get my groceries with no further delay.

Where are you going..interrupts Big B...do you have amnesia? This wicker is yours and you need to help us spray.

But I want to cook all day..not start at 5 tonight I groan. I get the stare. The one that says.."it's your wicker room"...and I cave.

What? I ask Do I need to do? Well..see here, Big B explains. The wicker is falling apart. That is what is making everyone itch. The wicker is splintering and your friends are covered in splinters. We have to spray..and spray..and spray. I have at least 10 cans of spray here..help yourself.

I bet my friends wouldn't get covered in wicker splinters in San Francisco.

I leave around 1..so much for getting an early start. I get a ticket in Helotes. 57 in a 45.

This is exciting. I tell the officer. His eyebrows raise. I mean..my family will be amused..they think I drive too slow. He smirks..and I wonder what he sees. I quickly assess the situation. I am dressed in football jersey and jeans, my bifocals are broken on one side, I have spray paint on my fingers..and I am rambling about the joy of getting a ticket. I have become a caricature of myself.

Thankyou sir. I say...and drive away.

I do not like to drive. It makes me uncomfortable. There is no decent public transit in Texas.

I would not have to drive in San Francisco.


The grocery store is crowded...they only have some of what I need. I unload my groceries and get stung by a bee!

This. I think. Is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day...and I begin to cry.

I visit my parents. A nice reprieve.

..and I return home for my cooking marathon at 5:30. You're right..laughs my family.
You will not start cooking at 5...but rather 5:30...it must be too much speeding.
They think they are funny..

I think my family in San Francisco will be nicer.

La Familia has dug a hole under my house. Even Austen..who is wearing a mask to protect others (the dirt?) from his germs. It's a wine cellar! they say...and they all pile in the hole..Mason peers over the top with a grin.

I can't help but laugh..as we all pile under our porch.. I play make-believe in a hole with my family.

This , I think...Would not happen in San Francisco.