Sometimes It Rains…

and sometimes it–well, that would be getting ahead of myself. Yesterday started with hours on the phone with tech support only to hear that my hard drive was fried and I needed to take it in for data recovery. I did my homework and found a local computer doc who only charges $99 to recover lost data. Much better than the $2700 a national service quoted me.

I try to keep all my projects backed up on my desktop, laptop, and USB, but doing it all manually every day has grown tiresome. I’ve been lax. Now I’m paying for it. Literally. I’m not worried about my digital pictures because I have them all backed up on http://www.winkflash.com/. The main thing is the latest versions of my books and some articles I’ve been working on.

So if you don’t see much of me around here, that means I still don’t have a computer.

The kids and I headed to a nearby town after school to drop off the computer tower and buy summer sandals for Joshua. A beautiful, sunny–I love getting into a stifling hot car and letting the warmth seep into my bones–day with my kids. They were in fine moods, which made the whole jaunt fun. We were walking toward the car across the parking lot of a shopping mall when I heard a sound. Kind of a puffy, blowing out sound. And in the next second, stuff was hitting all over my body.

(All in slo-mo.) Still holding both kids’ hands, I spun around to see what was happening: no cars driving by, no people walking along the store front…in fact, no movement at all. I spun a couple more times before the smell hit me. The aroma of “dairy air” or a sewage plant wafted up. I looked down. Black goo spattered the three of us, some even right next to Joshua’s eye.

Dazed, I walked the kids back into the store and went up to the clerk. “Someone. Out there. I don’t know what happened but we’re covered in something gross.”

She sent us back to the bathroom and ran out the door. Still smelling, but slightly cleaner, we emerged from the back.

“Did you see anything?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “Must have been someone up on the roof.”

I’m still trying to believe it. Apparently someone hid behind the false front of the store and shot/squirted liquefied fecal matter on us. A young mom and little kids! I don’t get it.

The day that starts with the news that my computer can’t be saved ends with me filing a police report while covered in some unknown waste product. The kids’ end-of-the-year school program was last night, so we hurried home, scrubbed off in the shower, stuffed some grub in our mouths, and went to school.

My husband informed me the police speak for what happened is “assault.”

My little family was assaulted with poop. Did anyone have a stranger day?

7 Responses to Sometimes It Rains…

  1. Anonymous June 1, 2007 at 1:53 pm #

    OH MY-LANTA!!!!!!!!!! UN-beLIEVable!!!
    So are you saying they caught the young mom and the kids???

    PLEASE, oh PLEEZE, let me excercise my Spiritual Gift of Slapping on her!!

    Auntie Depressant

  2. Anonymous June 1, 2007 at 2:01 pm #

    In Re-reading your post I get it now, it wasn’t a young mom and little kids that did it! YOU are the mom and kids! I thought a young mom and kids did it to you!! STILL I’ll slap whoever did it to you! Come to think of it, maybe somebody DID slap the Cr#p out of them and it unfortunately hit you! Auntie D.

  3. Jen's Journey June 1, 2007 at 7:00 pm #

    Holy smokes! I am so sorry to hear of your awful experience.

    My day was not as horrifying. But, it was a nice sunny day in which I went to the doctor for an annual (5 years for me) exam, was reminded I am getting older and now need bloodwork to make sure I am healthier than a regular exam will tell the doctor…Then, she caps the experience off reminding me I am not too far off from another type of exam that will squish what little I have into pancakes.

    Went to the hospital for the bloodwork to be informed my latte ruined any possible results and I would need to return (the doctor saw the latte and didn’t inform me of the need to fast).

    Made it to the office (work) and began my actual workday. Began the laborious job of picking stories from the archives of the past 100 years in increments of 10 years dating back to 1917 for our Friday edition’s historic look back in time. Usually do this one week at a time, but editor suggested doing all five weeks this month. Hmmmm!

    Halted that to run out to a dairy. But, since I hadn’t eaten lunch brought that along and ate in the 95 degree sun not 20 feet from the cows, smelling dairy air. Interview lasted an hour and a half from there.

    Rushed back to the office to continue my labors through the archives and had to interrupt again for a trip to get the kids (now 4 p.m. and am usually out of the office by now). The youngest child gets picked up first (4:30 max) and then my middle child.

    Rush back to the office to work some more while they color.

    Left the office at 6:45 p.m., ran home and made a quick dinner for the kids, picked up the phone and had another interview for today’s edition, quickly typed two stories up and crashed on the couch!

    Oh! Need I tell you most of the week has been like this?

    Make ya feel a teensy bit better? 🙂

  4. Dianne June 2, 2007 at 7:58 am #

    Unbelievable! I was spit on once (we called it hawkered!) in Chicago, but I always believed I was just unlucky enough to walk under an open window from which someone decided they needed to expel mucous from their throat! Shot at with poop – sheesh! I can’t even imagine.

  5. Christina Berry June 3, 2007 at 11:38 am #

    Dear Auntie D., go ahead and slap them if you can find them. I know that my wording confused you about the young mother and children…now I’m confused. Did you mean “crop” because farms sometimes smell like poop? Or “crip” because you think it was gang related? “Croup” because it makes you sick to think about it? “Creep” because that’s who did it?

    Nevermind, I can’t figure it out. 🙂

    Jen, you and I have certainly had our chare of “dairy air” experiences this week!

    Diane, hawkered is a great word. I’ll have to teach it to my six-year old.

    Thanks for commenting, guys. It’s still very surreal. Sometimes I think I made it up…until I look at my favorite shirt which is now stained.

  6. Anonymous June 3, 2007 at 12:16 pm #

    Christy, I think I’d BURN that shirt!!!
    Auntie D

  7. Jen's Journey June 3, 2007 at 11:10 pm #

    I second Auntie D’s last comment.