Orphans in Rags and Other Wild Things

When plan A starts ripping apart at the seams, and the needle has run short of thread in a futile effort to bind it all back together, plan B starts looking mighty reasonable no matter how haywire it really is.  You're dropped off at work on a morning that should be as it appears - sunny and peaceful, but in your head it's morphed into cloudy and troubled cause your mode of transportation is in for repairs and you wonder just how long it's really gonna be before you'll be able to escape THE JOB that afternoon.

Time to think of "what ifs" has vaporized as the phone calls and walk ins are surrounding you like a swirling sea of quicksand sucking your sanity into the vortex of total chaos.  Since "patsy's" stamped in indelible ink on your forehead  and your wispy bangs are doing such a pitiful job of camouflage, it's just a matter of a very short time before the scenario of bad becomes worse...then it happens.

You've just been given a box of rags, and your curiosity instantly dies a short flaming death.  You know something's breathing in there, and what should have been another's problem is now yours.  You're told this is what's left of a possum verses four speeding tires, and you sigh.  Husband's called, then Walden's Puddle Wildlife Rehab, and you're wondering how to set up an appointment when the car could be ready anytime from an hour, or two or three from now.

A time is picked for the hour long drive after husband's hour long drive to pick you and your orphans up.  Husband calls, then Walden's Puddle's appointment is reneged and reassigned a later time after a lengthy discussion. Long story short...the four orphaned babies are now with another group of orphans, cuddled warmly together.  Speeding towards home you stop for a huge bottle of cool pepsi to pacify your defeated soul, cause you passed up a planned afternoon of weed pulling ecstasy in the gardens and the rains are moving in.  Ain't life grand?

Wild Things this April Afternoon