(Taking Care of) Business As Usual

What do you call it when you get a winter storm (in March) that drops over a foot of snow at your doorstep?  

Just another day in Maine.  

When a foot of snow is normal, you learn to get on with your life, in spite of the warnings by the National Weather Service to stay off the roads except in case of emergency.  We always take what those snow-averse scientists say with a grain (or truckload) of salt because they are headquartered in the Precipitation Panic Capital of the World--the DC Metro area.  

This is the same place where even the prediction of a dusting can lead to rioting in the grocery store among the empty aisles that once housed the TP, rock salt and liquor.  And it doesn't help that the preponderance of SUVs fuming about in Northern Virginia are often manned by severely misguided drivers who honestly believe that four wheel drive equals immunity from ice and ditches.  So my point is, I get why the NWS is a bit overprotective when it comes to unsupervised road trips with snow.

Actually, that's not my point.  My point was to tell you about our day.  Oh Digression, you get me every time.  Much like a ditch to the invincible Northern Virginia SUV.

So we went about our business as usual, which translated into an 8 a.m. departure to pay the car dealer a visit.  As a general rule, I will only go to a car dealer under great duress or when the service is recall-related, and therefore free of charge.  The situation today was the latter.  

Now I have to give some credit to this particular dealer.  The waiting area included a wonderful little spot for the preschool people, complete with a Geotrax empire just itching to be built. Caed and Dani took full advantage of the fact that I had nothing to distract me from whole-hearted participation in the creation of an alternate train universe so spectacular it would probably qualify for funding from the latest stimulus package.

 

Halfway through our construction project, Dani produced some all natural materials not suitable for our railway empire, the likes of which threatened to bring an end to our Fisher Price fiesta.  Normally, this would also be business as usual, but I had left the diaper bag in the car that was being serviced.

Thankfully, the service representative responded quite promptly to my plea to retrieve the diapers from the car, her haste no doubt fueled by the toxic smell engulfing the dealership as each moment passed.

As we opened the door to the family restroom, Caed proclaimed, "Wow, it smells like lollipops in here!"  

Not for long, I thought, feeling sorry for the folks who would use these facilities after we left.

As I changed Dani's diaper, Caed turned up his nose at the mess and began lecturing Dani about being a big girl.  And I quote, "Next time you need to go poopy, you should just tell Mommy.  She will help you get to the potty, and then you won't have to get so messy and it won't be so stinky.  It's all part of being a big girl, Dani."  (There is a reason he has this lecture memorized, but we won't go into that here.)  

I will also spare you of how I managed to clean up the mess, having forgotten the wipes at home.  We were in there a long time, the kind of long time that gets you some judgmental looks from the receptionist.  

Yeah, lady, we wasted a boat load of water in there, and probably de-neutralized your organization's carbon footprint for the entire year with just one diaper change and hand washing ordeal.  Now how bout you turn that stink eye to a blind eye, and pretend it never happened.  And, umm, you might want to avoid going in there for a while.

I don't believe I'm exaggerating when I say that everyone within a mile radius of the waiting room was happy when our car was fixed and ready to roll back on out into the snowstorm. (Which, no thanks to the National Weather Service, turned out to be the most uneventful part of our day!)