Frazzled

I forgot socks today.  That's what started it.  I was wearing tights to school, and realized I didn't have other socks to ride in.  I sat barefooted on the bench outside of the Dining Hall bathroom (/my dressing room), contemplating.  I could ask a kid to lend me socks.  I could ask an on-campus faculty member.  I could tear the tights currently in my hands into socks.  For some reason, at the moment that seemed like the best idea, I guess because they were ripped already?  More likely because I was due to be driving kids in about 30 seconds  and I still had to pick up the van.  Tights-to-socks conversion did not work though.  Weird.

So I gingerly put my poor bare feet in my paddock boots.  This would have to do.

I ran to the zoo in my unzipped boots (still could not commit to being sockless), since I use the zoo's minivan on game days as my usual Millbrook short bus, similar to the one below (and JUST as much fun), is used for games.

Since it only fits 5, I need to make two trips to bring the 9 riders back and forth to Kildare.  I had turned on my phone and had it with me, noticing I had a voicemail marked "Urgent."  Excitement!  Who would've possibly left me a voicemail?  And having been left a voicemail, what could it possible pertain to that would merit such a designation?  Sure, I was late to get the kids, but this was urgent!

There were no parking spots at the zoo, so after shuffling the minivan out and my car in, I stood listening to the message on the shaky single bar service.  Ron Ross, horse dentist extraordinaire!  Asking if Friday morning would be good for him to come by for EZ's mouth.  I was psyched.  Since the vet was here 2 weeks ago, saying he could use some filing, I have been imagining his poor little mouth being ouchie.  So the day could soon be here!

 

 This is neither EZ nor Ron Ross, but it looks like the level of fun I am imagining.

Anyway, Ron needed confirmation, so since Friday morning (like the rest of my life) I am in school, I called to ask mom if she would be around, leaving a message since she was galavanting.

Then I drove the van, smelling mildly of red panda, up to campus to pick up the first load of kids.  As I left campus the phone rang, and I irresponsibly answered it when I saw it was Ron Ross.  Of course, the one bar of service was nonfunctioning, so I tried to yell at him for a minute before my fear of endangering the lives of my students overcame my desire to make EZ a dentist appointment.  But Ron Ross is persistent, and he left another urgent message so that he could confirm his other appointments.  I needed to be in on that confirmation!

So I idled at the end of Kildare's driveway before picking up the second group of kids, reached mom, confirmed her always helpful presence for Friday morning, and was able to also finally talk to Ron Ross, with the bar of service only causing intermittent instances of talking over or blanks.  Yes!  Friday morning is great!  He'd call before he drove over--which meant I had to give him the house phone number.  No, not that house phone, that's on campus, the Indian Pond Farm number, oh you need a pen to write it down?  Oh you're driving?  Oh you'll call back?  By the time he had called back I had lost the bar of service and to find it again had ended up backing slowly down Kildare's driveway, in the rain, in a zoo van that smelled of red panda, with  my bare feet stuck in unzipped boots, yelling, Ron?!  Can you hear me now?!  while students were waiting for me both in the barn and still back on campus, thinking, I have never been more ridiculous.  Which is untrue, I totally have (see below), but still.

I gave up, drove back to campus, and while the second group loaded up (after crying tears of joy that I had not completely abandoned them so that they would be forced to walk the three miles to the barn) sent a text to Ron Ross, apologizing profusely so that he would like us and giving him mom's number, while promising she is much more helpful than I am.  Mission completed; I hoped I hadn't discouraged him.

Back at the farm, while reluctantly putting on my halfchaps over my finally zipped boots, I realized that in my eager friendliness my sent text had started off,  Hi Ross!  Nope, that's not his name.  Not what I meant at all.

If only Ms Frazzle was as popular as Ms Frizzle.