Between the Drops

I stood at the end of the driveway with my trash can in one hand and a recycle bag in the other. From the house to the street would take less than two minutes, so I didn't see the need to wear a raincoat. I'd just run between the drops, I reasoned. But when I reached the street I was stopped and forced to stand under the pelting rain for many long minutes because of a malfunction at the command center.

I knew trash pickup was Thursday, but what I didn't know was what day it was. Was it Wednesday? Or was it Tuesday? I was hoping for a Wednesday answer so I could leave the trash at the curb and hurry back to the house. I was starting to shiver as the cold autumn rain assaulted me from every direction. Wednesday, Tuesday. Wednesday, Tuesday. Come on brain! I'm getting wet. It's a simple question. It can't be that difficult.

Jason peeked out the window, probably to see why it was taking me so long to take out the trash. Not wanting him to know I was having difficulty getting my brain to answer a simple question, I smiled and waved and then leaned nonchalantly against the trash can. Nothing to be alarmed about, Sweetie. Just hanging out in the street in the pouring rain with our trash. He gave me his signature you-are-really-weird look and closed the curtain.

Meanwhile, back at the curb, I was still trying to get an answer: Wednesday? Tuesday? What is taking so long? Then, out of the gray fog, came a thought. A thought? A thought is a good thing. It meant my brain was working--albeit in a limited capacity--again.

"I have an idea," my brain offered.

"I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm in no mood for ideas. Just tell me what day it is."

"If I knew I'd tell you, but that information is unavailable at the moment. Want to hear my idea?"

"No! I'm going to stand here in the rain until you tell me what day it is."

"Tuesday! You're a day early."

Angry with myself for getting it wrong, I started back up the driveway with trash in tow.

"Just kidding. Hey! You demanded an answer so I gave you one, but truth is, I don't know. That information is unavailable at the moment. Want to hear my idea?"

"No! I'll wait until that information is available."

So I waited and waited and waited until I couldn't wait any longer. Shivering, soaked, and defeated, I left the trash at the curb--so what if it sits there an extra day--and walked back to the house.

"Just so you know," my brain boasted, "leaving the trash at the curb was my idea."

The boy peeking out of the window was my ten-year-old son. I was forty-five, way too young for command center malfunctions.  It only gets worse.