The broken road.

It's Monday, so you know what that means!

Well, maybe it means something else to you. In my life it means I wake up disappointed and disgruntled and horked off about everything. Largely because I don't like my job and also because I spend most of my weekends outdoors and the fourteen billion types of pollen make me sick. I can't hear out of my ears, my head weighs twifty pounds and I? Am pretty much just over it.

I am also over the road construction everywhere. I live in the land of the Big Orange Cones and the highway I've needed to take to get to work has been closed for at least two years. Now they've closed another, extremely small part of the highway which has been a huge non-event. And today? They there were road crews working on this one extremely narrow road I take to cross an overpass and take my little children to school. It's like seven o'clock in the morning and they are all standing around talking about the new Sex and the City movie or some crap and are parked next to the stop sign. Which would be fine except they blocked the one way street which crosses the road and I can't see if crossing is going to cause us to be horribly killed.

So? I'm grouchy.

I say to my little children, "I am so sick of this road construction!"

Boy Child says, thoughtfully, "Well, it's good they are fixing the roads, right? Because we want the roads to be fixed. Remember last week how you said, 'I am so sick of these crappy roads!'?"

Yeah.

I said, quietly, under my breath almost, "God Bless the broken roads that led me right to you."

And Girl Child looked out the window and said, "Hmm. Doesn't look so broken to me."


When I grow up? I want to be my children. For reals.