Two strange things happened that day. I was offered vegetable soup by a dog, and my son dumped a bucket of melted ice cream all over me.
But let me start at the beginning of my misery.
I was heading home from my job at Carson's Autos, which is only a fifteen minute walk from my house. I take the same route every day, and I don't like or expect surprises.
As I passed Lena's Cafe, a man in a huge dog costume knocked into me. My briefcase flew open, contracts flying everywhere. Did I mention, I don't like surprises?
He got down on all fours, and tried unsuccessfully to gather up the papers with his platter-sized paws. "I'm so sorry, Sir!"
I acted quickly, grabbing most of them before they were destroyed by his good intentions. "No, it's fine. I can take care of it."
The man in the costume reluctantly rose. "At least have some vegetable soup, my treat."
"Maybe another time. I need to get home," I explained as I closed my briefcase.
His shoulders sagged. "I'm supposed to be bringing in customers. I really need this job."
"I'll go in tomorrow," I assured him, trying to smile despite the fact that I'd had an exceptionally difficult day.
Dejectedly he nodded, then held up a colorful printed menu, trying to attract the attention of passersby.
I quickly moved on, glad that the strange encounter was over. All I could think about was sitting in front of the TV with a cold one...
When I was on my own porch, I sighed with relief. "Hello, I'm home! How was your day, Honey?"
Nobody answered. I went into the kitchen, and there was a note on the fridge.
"I had to take Mrs. Barnes from across the street to the ER, she cut her hand while slicing tomatoes. I'll be back soon. Please make sure Danny has sandwiches and cookies when he gets home.
Love, Helen"
I sighed. "Another surprise... I'll have to get those sandwiches made before Danny gets home. Then I'll have an hour to relax."
Once I was finished in the kitchen, I gratefully dragged my feet into the living room. Then I sighed again.
"Danny, what are you doing home so early? And why is there a tub of melted ice cream on the coffee table?"
My ten year old son put his show on pause, and looked at his shoes. "Sorry Dad, I forgot to put it away when I was done. We were sent home early because of a problem with the bathrooms. Some of the big kids flushed fireworks down the toilets."
"Get the ice cream, it's going out in the trash," I told him.
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
I held the door open for him, and we walked the short distance to the curb. Then I removed the lid, and tilted the trash can.
Danny tripped on a crack, and almost fell. Fortunately he caught himself. Unfortunately, he accidentally dumped the entire gallon of melted ice cream all over me. Did I mention that I hate surprises?
We started to go back inside when Helen pulled into the driveway. And my stomach began to twist and turn.
In the back seat was Mrs. Barnes. Next to my wife sat her mother - who should have been lounging beside a pool, a thousand miles away.
Helen beamed. "I have a wonderful surprise, Dear!"
"You know how I feel about surprises, Honey..."
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