I am a few yards from the door of the high school and I already know it's going to be bad. There are steep stone steps and no ramp (isn't there a law to protect the kids in wheelchairs from this ignominy?) at the front door and I know a little bit more about how bad this is going to be. I can hear the voices of teachers floating out the windows; they are using that tone that teachers use when they know they have lost the students' attention. And in this instance they have lost it to a woman pushing a lucky green stroller up to the front door of the high school at noon-thirty on a Monday. Oh wait. That is I. Soooo bad.
A guy in a golf shirt who is probably the assistant principal or a coach or both comes to the door and looks down at me, not meaning to be condescending, but whatever AT LEAST I DON'T HAVE TO DRAG BUH-BUMP-BAH-BUMP THIS STROLLER UP THERE and he asks if there's anything I need.
"Um, this is kind of embarassing, but there isn't a craft fair here today is there?"
He tells me no, in a kind way, and says at least not that he knows of, but, of course, this being school hours, probably not.
And in this moment, we are both realizing something.
He is realizing that he is talking to a crazy person who actually thinks a high school might open its doors ON A SCHOOL DAY to gaggles of crafty moms like she, moms that would come to the door of a high school wondering where the ramp is to accommodate their strollers.
And I am realizing that he probably thinks he is talking to a crazy person who might question why there was absolutely no signage whatsoever advertising a craft fair on a school day at a high school, but, heh, let's just go see if it's one of those under-the-radar craft shows open to the public at a public high school.
But really all I am is frazzled and unable to read the internet correctly, and growing blonder by the day.