On the Feast Day of St. Anthony of Padua, patron saint of lost items, Kerry Trotter reflects on the increased frequency with which she could his help.
Mondays aren’t normally my sharpest days.
But this one hit an all-time dull.
I had just hoisted my daughter from her booster seat, fresh off a mac-and-cheese lunch, and was gearing up for that delightfully contented hour of play before naptime. She was happy, I was happy, and we were simply reveling in our togetherness when the serpentine unease of a forgotten thought slithered into my head.
You know, the thought that should have slithered in hours earlier but was suspended in the muck of my brain matter, clogged with so many work deadlines and Elmo songs.
I was supposed to have lunch with a friend today. In fact, an hour before.
I had completely—I mean, completely—forgotten about it.
Panicked, I leaped to my feet and ran to the computer. An email waited...
For all intents and purposes, the online pinboard community Pinterest is a wonderful concept indeed. For Word on Fire's Kerry Trotter, it's a surefire way to kiss an otherwise productive afternoon goodbye. In her search for true inspiration, she looked a little closer. Read on for what she found.
The sounds of my chirping daughter crackling through the baby monitor shook me out of my haze.
I blinked furiously, my eyes falling on my watch.
“4:30? P.M.? Are you kidding me?”
Two-and-a-half hours had sped by while my daughter napped, and I had spent it nearly motionless at the computer.
Dishes sat dirty in the sink.
Toys were strewn about.
A tumbling wad of dog hair chaparral cascaded past me.
Representatives from the cartoonishly large super race of ants, which have called our duplex’s woodwork home long before we ever did, brazenly sauntered nearby. Their numbers usually diminished by the green flipflop I keep as a sidearm expressly for this purpose, they now had the edge.
I panicked. Where did all that time go?
To a time-suck heretofore unparalleled— to Pinterest