So…being bored and locked away is not a good thing for most people. But I’m a writer. Gotta find some humor in the situation, I thought. This little story came to mind yesterday. Thanks to a friend who shared her ‘grandma’ story with me a while ago. I embellished and it may be the start of something new. Read on! What do you think?? Share my page if you like.
                                                    A NORMAL DAY IN THE LIFE
It began like any other day—a normal day, that is. I had gotten up early thinking that it’d be a nice treat for me, Grandma Josie, to fix a special breakfast for our “Grands”. Our daughter and son-in-law were soaking in the sun in the Caribbean for a week. Grandpa Hank and I were staying at their house in Wisconsin.
In January.
With three preschool children.
And two little, irascible dachshunds.
Actually, by that third day, we were all already a bit irascible! A winter lock-down with small children plus animals requires creativity, patience, and imagination.
So, I’d thought I’d do a blueberry, French toast bake in the oven for breakfast. It’d be a nice treat, a nice way to begin the day. That’s how it started. I’d gotten the oven warming when suddenly there was a swirl of gray smoke seeping out around the edges of the oven door. I peeked in to see odd bits of pepperoni baking—and smoking—in the bottom of the oven.
Grabbing a towel, I swatted at the smoke, hoping to diffuse it. Too late. The smoke detector screamed in warning. I quickly opened the front door and slid up the dining room window, and rushed back to the kitchen flapping the towel to disperse the smoke and quell the noise of the smoke detectors.
Unfortunately, in my panic and determination not to waken the house, I’d forgotten about secure home alarm system our daughter had installed. In all fairness, I must say, she’d told me. She’d warned me that I must enter the four-digit code to turn off the alarm system before I left the house each morning.
I’d forgotten about it. And I forgot the code, too.
That was probably because I was distracted when I saw two long, brown fur bundles racing to freedom out the open front door.
I knew I’d be in even more trouble if those little Weiner dogs got away. Excitedly yapping, they quickly slowed to begin gingerly tiptoeing through the belly-high drifts of snow they’d blindly plunged into. I clutched my robe close over my flannel gown, and pulled on the only shoes I could find by the front door…my granddaughter’s Minnie Mouse slippers that barely covered half my foot!
I had just taken three giant steps and stopped mid-calf in a pile of the white stuff, to retrieve one of the little mongrels, when I heard the jarring fog-horn blurp of an emergency vehicle, and looked up to witness a full ladder fire truck pulling into the circle. I stood frozen in spot, not only stunned by the cold, but also by pure horror. Of course, the truck came to a stop at the end of the driveway. I was mortified! There was no place to escape. An agile young man in black and yellow fireman’s gear jumped down and walked up to greet me with a semi-concerned smile.
“You doing all right, maam?” He was obviously trying not to display a condescending demeanor. Actually, he looked like he was trying to hold in a huge belly laugh. He wasn’t being successful, I’m afraid. He broke out into a grin as he ended his question.
“Yes! I’m fine!” I assured him. I shook my head and gathered up the second dog in my other arm, while trying to pull my robe closed around the two wiggly dogs.
“Your alarm went off. It notified us,” he explained.
“Yes, I see,” I said, impatiently looking around to see my husband coming out the front door and pulling on his overcoat. “It’s all a big mistake. Sorry.”
It took another ten minutes while standing in the freezing cold, trying to explain who we were and why I’d forgotten the alarm code, before the young man and the truck slowly pulled away from the curb and headed back down the street. We settled back in to the house to salvage a normal breakfast with the children giggling about the exciting start to their day, and my husband carefully avoiding eye contact with me. –Gail
©gailleecowdin 2020