Happy Place

I'm the kind of person who has a various number of happy places. They rotate depending upon the severity of my need for them. Whenever I need one, I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath, and picture myself someplace that smells of frosting and baked goods.

As of today, my happy place has changed. It now involves the school bus. The one that will arrive at 7:26 am on August 23rd. It's all I can think about. My children have driven me to a constant need for a happy place. So, instead of curling up into the fetal position, I dream about that school bus pulling up in front of my house. 25 days and counting, people. 25 days.

You know that high pitched whistle only dogs can hear? And when they do, it drives them mad and causes them to run? The voices of my children have reached that pitch. They start talking (and by that, I mean whining and arguing) and I have this sudden urge to run. Far, far away.

In case you need a happy place, I'll let you borrow mine. Just be sure to give it back. These days, I seem to have need for it every 32 minutes. Again, I repeat. 25 days.