I don’t believe in karma, feng shui, ying and yang or any of that other tree hugging, crystal gripping hippie crap. But sometimes when a series of unfortunate events seem to get all bunched together, I feel the need to get my cranky ho on and gripe a little.
Do you see where this is going? I think you do…
Sunday afternoon, we drove our daughter to her very first girl scout camping adventure: horse camp. She was a bit teary eyed the night before, but once we arrived at camp and she realized that she would be bunking with most of her brownie troop, she relaxed and gave us all (including her older brother whom she had just informed she would not miss) a smile, kiss and big hug goodbye.
Anyone who has any experience with Girl Scouts understands that the key to any enjoyable camping trip is copious amounts of paperwork filled out by the girls’ parents before said trip. Presidential pardons have been granted with less paperwork. Can I get a witness, Beth? (Editor’s note: I should point out that the “Beth” I am referring to is geeky church planter Beth. As it seems there is a plethora of Beths that read this blog. But I digress…)
I spent the better part of 2 days searching for the necessary documentation to assure the Girl Scout Gestapo that my 7 year old daughter did not pose a threat to herself or others at horse camp. I even brought all the paperwork on a clipboard, just in case I filled out something wrong. (I did, but it was a minor infraction.) The only thing I did not complete, BECAUSE SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUT IT IN MY PACKET was the camp physical release form to be signed by our family physician.
Again, do you see where this is going? Uh, huh. Thought so…
The camp director was kind enough to allow our daughter to stay at the camp overnight, provided we have our doctor’s office fill out the form and fax it to the camp the following morning.
Early yesterday morning, I drove the 20 miles from my house to our GP and presented the form to the receptionist, who in turn informed me that my daughter had not had a physical in two years, and the doctor would not sign the form. Sucktacular.
Guess who drove 70 miles to pick up her daughter at camp, drove 70 miles back to the doctor’s office, waited impatiently for the doctor (whose time is apparently WAY more valuable than mine), got the stupid form signed, then drove another 70 miles, dropped off her daughter at camp AGAIN, filled up her gas guzzling non-environmental friendly SUV with gas, then drove (you guessed it – 70 miles) back home?
That would be yours truly. All I want to know is, WHO FORGOT TO PUT THAT STUPID FORM IN MY PACKET?!?
I promise, I forgive you. But I want to punch you in the neck!
In Christian love, of course…always in love.
P.S. – Driving on Interstate 45 at 5:00 pm on a Monday? Don’t EVEN get me started….