I got up with no real intention of being up. (When you get to my age “holding it” past the point of “it” intruding upon your dreams in the shape of only being able find bathrooms with no walls in public places or only finding stalls with no door and no toilet paper is not a good idea. “TMI, TMI,” I can hear my kids shouting.)

Anyway, I was up, so I might as well get myself to morning Mass. As the master bath was full of my husband, I headed downstairs, unbelievably stopping to nuke a giant mug of coffee before finally heading to the bathroom. The kitchen garbage smelled funky, the dishes from yesterday were piled in as slimy mess in the sink, and in the laundry room, there was a questionable load that waited a tad too long to be dried. I managed to tackle a few things while brushing my teeth and getting ready. Boom I was out the door, not in enough time for Daily Office prayers, but plenty of time for mass.

Wat, wat, waa. My car was trapped. Arrg. My teenage daughter who has been working hard nearly every day had pulled in behind me last night. Have I mentioned our driveway looks like a used car lot—not the one run by the shady guy but the small lot with halfway decent cars you would buy for your kid. Normally it is not a problem. Yesterday however, I took over the garage in an effort to paint a second-hand dresser I picked up for our son coming home from the marines in a few weeks. The dresser, kind of an odd piece, was in great shape, but I hated that way the wood grain was inlaid in diagonals. In my book (these days) anything painted black has been improved, so I went to town on it all day, sanding priming and spray painting. Would have had it done too, except that last can of spray paint decided to be semi-gloss when I had apparently been using satin—and why had I bought satin??!!

Anyway, that is the longish version of why the garage was unavailable for parking. That is not the reason however the driveway looks like a used car lot, mind you. At present, we have a total of five cars and a motorcycle, and when Marine I comes home we will have another SUV to work into the queue. Where was all this going anyway?

Oh yeah, knowing the possibility of waking up the dead and getting the white LeSabre moved at 6:30 am, I gave up, finished the dishes, folded a load of laundry, washed the sink and stove and voila, found a few minutes to blog. And there you have it.

Have a great day all.

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About Carla Coon

Carla Coon has been happily married to her husband Darrell for 25 years, living in Upstate New York and raising their eight children. They are new grandparents to three baby girls. Carla’s first novel, THE GLEN, was born of a synergy of two great passions: religious studies and the outdoors. Carla Coon's professional experience includes working as Editor of LifeWork’s Magazine for NYSRTLC, where she also contributed a monthly column. Carla wrote in-depth articles for the National Catholic Register, and was published in the New Oxford Review, Catholic Faith & Family, the Press & Sun-Bulletin and more. In other positions, she was a Program Coordinator for a non-profit groups and Director of Religious Education at a large parish. Once a professional ballroom dance instructor, Carla enjoys music and dance, roaming art museums, and travel with her husband. Her current work involves coordinating the establishment of family support groups in Upstate NY.
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One Response to Trapped

  1. Hi Carla, I’m a new follower from Bookblogs. Love your blog and now off to check out your novel. Looks great – I’m also a writer, although nothing published as yet. I’m a work in progress! Busy with my first novel right now, although not sure if I’ll get finished this year. You can find me at:

    All the best

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