Backseat - From Where I Sit

August 2006

By: Michelle

Some Days Are More “Notable” Than Others

There are times that from the moment you wake until the time you hit the pillow it seems that you are about a half-second out of step with the rest of the universe. You know you aren’t quite hitting both cylinders. This is what I refer to as the curse of the “plate too full syndrome” - when there’s no room left for another thing or something messy is going to drip on your shoes. I have just recently learned that much to the detriment of my family, this disease is contagious.

I should have seen it coming at lunch when I went across the street to the sandwich shop and grabbed a bite to eat. I was half way across the street when I looked down and noticed that I was carrying only the drink in my hand. Rather embarrassed, I turned around mid-street and headed back. I opened the door to go back inside when it hit me. I mean it literally hit me - the sandwich that I was carrying in my other hand. Feeling really stupid I put my head down and walked back across the street - right into the side of a parked car. If I had had the luxury, I would have just gone fetal under my desk until the day ended.

Somehow I did manage to make it to the end of the day. I almost skipped with glee to my carpool, sure that the curse had been lifted. Within minutes all the light and love quickly melted into a blob of panic as I realized I left my wallet on my desk at work. After forcing 4 overtired carpoolers to drive back around the block in DC traffic, I noticed a very interesting phenomenon. The laws physics can be totally defied, as a tiny car full of people can actually feel pretty big and lonely. All you have to do is apply the appropriate amount of annoyance to the formula.

Exhausted from the drama of the day, I called Kent from my daughter’s house to let him know that I was having tea to unwind. Only to hear a heavy sigh on the end followed by “I guess plans have changed?” Plans? Then I remembered that we were supposed to get an affidavit statement notarized. Trying to salvage what was left of the day, both my daughter and I jumped in the car and I told him I would meet him. After about 15 minutes at the bank, I began to worry so I gave him a call on the cell phone and asked him where he was. He said he was waiting to “meet” me. I had forgotten the tiny little detail of where we would actually meet. In a total fluster, I drove back to the house to pick him up forgetting my daughter who was shopping inside the store. The plate was overfilling all once again.

As soon as we got back to the bank, I thought the ordeal was over. Unfortunately, the bank no longer had a notary. (On the good side, I did manage to find my daughter.) Still clutching the piece of paper and vowing not to be defeated, we headed down the road looking for another bank that might be open at 5:30PM. Surely there is at least one notary in the entire county of Fairfax on duty. On a whim, I called a friend who used to be a notary, only to find out that her commission expired the day before. However, she did recommend a book/card store that had a “Notary” sign in the window across town. 20 minutes later, we are standing in the bookstore only to find out that the “Notary” sign was for sale right next to the “No Trespassing” and “For Rent” sign.

We were determined not to give up so we thought that the local 24 hour copying place would surely have one. This is when the day truly went from “plate too full” straight to “just plain wrong.” After waiting about 5 minutes to get a clerk, I was informed by the woman behind the counter that they didn’t have a notary. However, I noticed she had a slight hesitancy in her voice and motioned her head in the direction of a remote counter. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to follow her. She then whispered, “I am a notary but I can’t do anything on the clock. Meet me back here at 8:00 tonight and I will notarize it for you.” After the day I had been having a clandestine meeting with a psuedo-notary in the back alley of the print shop after dark seemed perfectly reasonable to me. However, my husband Kent wasn’t quite as convinced. She eyed him warily as he called me aside and said he would rather wait until the light of day to get the paper notarized. She was saying something under her breath and pointing at Kent as we quietly backed out the door.

We congratulated ourselves on successfully avoiding fake notary jail time and decided to celebrate by going out for pizza. Kent teased me when I explained that the only reason something so simple could go so terribly wrong was because of the “plate too full syndrome.” That is, until he parked into a restricted space, left the pizza box full of leftovers at the restaurant and pulled up to the wrong side of the gas pump. Either he caught my “disease” or “it’s not nice to fool with mother notary.”

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