I am lame
I enjoy food, fire and family but I’m tired from the day and retire early. I’m almost asleep when an unfamiliar number rings on my phone at 10:30 (11:30 Boise time). I debate answering.
“Hello?” It’s Laura. She’s borrowed a phone since hers has died. She wants to know when I’ll be over with her stuff. She made a last minute decision to stay at WSU tonight.
“Laura, I’m in bed,” I say, thinking it’s an answer.
“Well, can you bring some things over on the motorcycle?”
“Um, no.” I love my daughter but getting out of bed, gearing up, riding to the next town and figuring out where on campus she is really doesn’t seem necessary when my mom will be there for work first thing in the morning, in seven hours. So I tell her, “send grandma a text so she knows how to find you and she’ll drop your stuff off in the morning.”
As she’s hanging up the phone I hear her answer someone nearby: “No, my dad is lame.”