A dedicated night-owl, I struggle to arrive at every early morning appointment on time, much less appearing rested & serene. (You know what I mean.) Yet, in my imagination…
I park my vehicle & stroll up the walkway. Flowers nod their petal bonnets as I pass. Then, with smiles for all (& my makeup perfect), I present a fresh-from-the-oven something to the hostess. Impressed, she breathes in the mouth-watering fragrance & her eyes roll back.
Catching her by the elbow before she faints into a blissful heap, I help her into the kitchen. Then pull back the charming, hand-embroidered (by me, of course) bread cover from my basket of…what? Muffins? No…scones! And place them on the table. Tenderly. An offering.
The ladies trickle in one by one, unable to keep from commenting. “What is that delicious aroma?” “ Can this be heaven?” “I have to have the recipe!”
Of course, that never happens. THIS is what actually happens:
One recent morning I was a little ahead of the clock for Bible study. Collecting my purse, books & highlighter, I stepped through the doorway. Then stopped. What had I forgotten? Oh, yes. Breakfast.
I’m not talking about a drool-worthy basket of scones. Just something to get me by until the coffee kicked in. Wait! Wasn’t I going to make coffee? I dropped my things & headed for the kitchen. Still time to grab some travel food. And drink.
Once there, I noted the tea-kettle rumbling on the stove top, about to whistle. (Oops. I forgot that one little detail.) Thanking Jesus, I turned off the burner, spooned some instant coffee into a mug & poured in boiling water. And a hearty splash of Snicker’s Bar Creamer. Plus a couple packets of “I Wish I Was Sugar.” (Stirred, not shaken.)
I chose a Lemon Meringue Pie flavored yogurt from the fridge. Mixing it into a pudding-like state, I added some fruit & granola. And the spoon. Ta-dah! Ready to go.
Back at the front door, I placed the coffee mug & yogurt atop the sideboard, away from the edge. (Safety first, right?) A quick glance at the wall clock showed my extra time had vanished.
I lifted my purse (NEW purse, BTW) from the floor & transferred it to my left hand, digging inside for sunglasses with my right. I found them on the sideboard, behind the coffee. A quick grab and they were on my face. Pulling the keys toward me, I skillfully captured the coffee at the same time…and…knocked over the open container of yogurt. A glob oozed across the top of the sideboard, a strawberry sliver sliding upright like a shark fin. With a hand full of keys & coffee, I tried to rescue my breakfast. It eluded my grasp & plop-plopped right into my purse. DEEP, deep inside.
I thought I heard it gurgle. Or was that giggle?
Game over. Then it was a matter of cleansing my purse – inside & out, removing yogurt from my car keys, wallet, etc., & dabbing at drips on the sideboard door, until all the goo was gone.
I would have been only a half hour late but…flustered…I forgot my destination & drove to the wrong house. In the wrong town. (Really?) I arrived a full hour late – breathless & treatless. My friends gave me grace, as usual. And even though they know I write fiction, I’m pretty sure they believed my excuse.
Should you, dear reader, need a new & unique reason for lateness, I give mine to you. Obviously, I won’t use it again. No one would believe it twice.