Curse of the PTO Luncheon, Part Deux

You thought it was over, didn’t you? So did I.

I thought after last week’s Teacher Appreciation Luncheon debacle, the universe was done throwing ShitMuffins my way, but the universe had a few more to toss at my head. He also had a few extra CrapCrullers lying around, so he chucked those in, too.

Are ShitMuffins and CrapCrullers gluten-free, you think? I mean, I do live in Boulder County.

Anyways.

Cleaning the soup ocean out of the Silver Toyota of Squirrel Mercy was a messy job and I will get the car detailed professionally soon, but I was so seething with rage energized that I actually did a pretty good job of it. Then I marched those soup pots into the house and threw every remaining bit of offending liquid into the garbage. It was rather cathartic.

It was cathartic enough that a few days later, I was able to go to the grocery store and purchase the exact same ingredients for soup  without shooting iridescent, blood-red, sizzling laser beams out of my eyes, which I thought was quite impressive.

On Saturday, I cooked up the tomato bisque (I didn’t even spit in it!) and put it in the auxiliary refrigerator.  Sunday morning, I considered making the chicken noodle soup, but Mama and Daddy were coming for Sunday lunch and I needed to straighten the house and season steaks for the grill and then transform those steaks into a transcendent salad with crisp romaine lettuce and juicy tomatoes and a charred corn relish and sharp shards of blue cheese.

Readers, when spring produce begins to arrive and I can start to see my way through the Dark Vortex of Winter Vegetable Suckage, this is exactly the salad I want to eat.

It’s a brilliant salad, and I’ll write about it. It’s a sexy salad, and I’ll post pictures about it. It’s dang delicious and I’ll tell you how to  make it but I can’t now because at that Sunday lunch? I couldn’t eat it.

I wanted to.

Instead, I fussed and pouted around, pushing food across the plate with annoyance. I reminded myself so much of my own children at that moment that it was startling.

I threw down my fork. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I suddenly just can’t eat.”

What it was was the Godzilla of all Rotaviruses, brewing in my gut.

Good news: nobody else got it.

Bad news: it lasted three days.

On day 2 1/2, I texted my husband at work: “I took Mozzy on a walk and had to stop to vomit twice in different neighbors’ bushes. I have lost the will to live.”

Fearing I’d alienate more neighbors, my husband made some calls and came rushing home with anti-vomiting medicine, which, to my daughters’ utter GLEE, came in suppository form. There have been a lot of butt jokes in this house the last few days.

I was too busy wailing and clutching a vomit-encrusted bucket to come up with chicken soup for the Teacher Appreciation Luncheon. I began to fret about it but then Mama reminded me–Costco exists.

Bless you, Costco.

Tuesday morning, I zombie-lurched into the school with my Costco chicken soup like a boss.

Haha! I survived! Suck It, Teacher Appreciation Luncheon!!

A lovely, sweet woman in the teacher’s lounge offered to help me unload, and boy, was I grateful because I was really woozy and sweaty by then. Three days without solid food will do that to a girl.

As I began to pour the tomato soup into my friendly loaner crockpot, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, the volunteer cheerfully plop the insert out of the crockpot and with one fell swoop, pour a huge quantity of Costco soup into the heating vessel.

“Yaaaaggggg,” I sputtered, and lunged for the thing, because it’s plugged in and we’re gonna get zapped.  She realizes what she’s done and lets out a horrified gasp. The crockpot makes a hissing sound, blinks twice and fizzles to death.

We gape at each other in stunned silence and then I start laughing. I laugh so hard I have to lean on the countertop. And then she’s laughing too, because who did we think we were? Bosses of Teacher Appreciation Luncheon?

That thing is boss of everyone.

Guess what I’m getting for Mother’s Day?

Tagged as: intestinal fuckery, PTO is whack, teacher appreciation luncheon is out to kill me