What now?

Ever have one of those days where it seems like roadblocks are thrown up in your face at every turn? I have and one such day was yesterday.

I had gone up to D.C. to visit Hunt and, more importantly, install the curtains I created for him (a la cutting a sheet in half and hemming it with stitch witchery). And yes, I have no professional experience to be using design terms such a "install" but since I crafted those things with my own hands I claim rights to them.

Since I work on Sundays, I needed to fly back in time to help with baptisms in service. I had planned for several hours of margin to be able to get back, ride our public transportation to the church, where my car was parked, and be fresh for working the service I was responsible for. I got to the airport in plenty of time, breezed through security (thank goodness for small airports!) and boarded at the front of my seating "zone."

Side note: I have never been assigned a zone higher than 6 for some reason. Seeing as there is no obvious rhyme or reason for a zone 2 and up assignment since they seem to be scattered all over the plane, I have no reasonable explanation for that phenomenon.

Since I had successfully packed carry ons only, I needed to get on and grab some overhead space. Which happened smoothly. The plane filled up, and right when we were about to pull away from the gate, the captain came on the PA system and announced that we had been grounded because a large thunderstorm had just rolled in and the airport was shut down. Thus commenced almost an hour and a half of sitting on the plane with little to no airflow. There were some that deplaned, but that privilege should be reserved only for those with small, restless children in my mind. Otherwise, you need to stick it out to be ready to take off whenever we get clearance. Once we did, there was a lengthy wait in line on the tarmac. Once we did take off, our pilot shaved off roughly 30 minutes of flight time going full throttle. Impressive.

Until we hit Atlanta and sat on the tarmac again, waiting to get a gate. I am now checking my cell phone for time every 38.4 seconds.

I ran to Marta, and then proceeded to find out my train was not running and I would have to ride a different one and transfer at another station. OK.

We then sat for 15 minutes in the airport station waiting for the train to fill up.

Halfway through the ride the train stops in the middle of a tunnel for no apparent reason or malfunction.

It was at this point that I lowered my head on my stacked bags and had to admit defeat. That I didn't have control, never did, and I just had to accept it.

I managed to get out at the transfer station, run while carrying two bags up 3 flights of stairs, wave down a cab, breathlessly tell him to get me to the church on time, and then want to scream as he turns the wrong direction down the street we have to take.

All that to say, I made it. And thank goodness my flight wasn't canceled, just delayed. The train didn't break down, it just paused for dramatic effect, and the cab driver finally turned in the right direction after some gentle words from his passenger.

The baptisms were awesome, and the worship incredible. And I was never happier to get in my own car, regain a false sense of control from being the driver, and go home.

I wondered if today would be more of the same. Why? It might be a result of waking up at 6:30, realizing you forgot to take out the 2 FULL trashcans (full as a result of everyone forgetting them last week), running outside to wrangle two wild-animal ravaged bags (we have vicious chipmunks in these parts) that had been left beside the cans to simmer in the July heat. Once all trash had been contained, I'm sure my neighbors enjoyed the sight of me steering two cans at once down the driveway. BUT, I made it. Stinky, smelly trash was hauled away and crisis was averted.

Since I have since had a lovely cup of coffee accompanied by a slice of homemade banana bread, I'm thinking it was an isolated incident.

Thankfully.

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Listening to: Ingram Hill - Will I Ever Make It Home
via FoxyTunes