When trying to herd the kids out the door to go to Clover's swim lesson, my iPhone slips off the counter to the tile floor. It flickers, then goes black. Muerte.
At the swim school, I stare at the iPhone, wishing it back to life as we wait for Clover's lesson to begin. Her swim instructor comes to the side of the pool to ask if I changed our lesson time this week because it's 4 o'clock. Clover's lesson is at 5 p.m. We leave and on the drive, a mail truck almost scrapes our car as we traverse the narrow roads to our house. I decide if the mail truck hits me, I am giving up. Call in Hospice because clearly I am nonfunctional.
My decision to drive back home to kill the hour seems ridiculous, but where else am I going to go briefly with one kid wearing a swimsuit and goggles and the other one is overtired and cranky? As we crest the hill, I see the sheriff at our house. He is as kind as can be. Soon after I left, our house alarm went off and I did not respond to the alarm company's call due to my dead cell phone. The officer thinks it was an "angry sensor" because he cannot see any signs of forced entry. He leaves, I call the alarm company to give them our safe word and figure out the issue (it is a sensor), then I call Kevin to share this insanity. His work number goes to voicemail, which is when I realize he's already sharing in the insanity and is probably on his way home. As I call his cell, he drives up.