The Accidental Medium

Does this ever happen to you?
Computer crashes. Car acts up. Cell phone battery dies. No Internet connection.
Lost toys. Lost documents. Lost checkbook. Lost car keys. Lost money. Lost time. Lost creativity – I can’t write. Forget to call a friend. Forget when and where an appointment is. Forget to book a play date. Forget a birthday. Forget Mother’s Day.  Petty arguments. Missed calls.  Miscommunication.  Meetings canceled.  Can’t get a babysitter.  It snows in May. Beaver cuts our tree down. A guy presses the wrong button and the Dow dives almost 1000 points. The dollar drops. People behave badly. All in one week. This is not an exaggeration.

I think it’s just me.
Then a newsletter lands in my inbox from Robert Ohotto. (He wrote “Transforming Fate into Destiny” – an excellent and practical book.) “It’s Mercury in Retrograde,” Ohotto reminds us.

Again? So soon? I get it. I should have known. My husband is very pragmatic. And he’s not into astrology. Even in our house, it’s a bit too woowoo for him.  And we’re at the peak of Mercury in Retrograde. I tell my husband it’s MR. He shrugs, non-committal. Forewarned, is, well, forewarned, I say.

I’m knee-deep in deadlines.
I have to go into town. I’m on a tight schedule. The family is going together for logistical purposes.  My husband is jumping up and down – He hates being late. I tend to cut it tight. He’s of German descent. He likes order. Space. Ample time. He gets rattled by my photo finishes. I’m still in my pyjamas, on my laptop, madly trying to meet a journalist’s deadline. I’m a source. Final edit – Save! Compose email! Send!

I fly upstairs for a quick shower. I hear the girls arguing. Our littlest won’t get dressed. Our eldest won’t eat breakfast. My husband hasn’t been able to find his car keys. He now can’t find the portable phone to confirm an appointment.

“Where’s the phone? It’s lost too!” My husband cannot tolerate disorder. He has to find the portable phone. It’s a mission.

“Matilda….”??? I hear him grumble accusingly at my youngest. Matilda runs into her bedroom and slams the door. She has a reputation for collecting and hiding personal items that don’t belong to her: My husband’s car keys, my lipstick, my eldest daughter Kate’s dresses. Possibly a phone? The list goes on.

I yell downstairs, “Call our number! Dial line 1 from line 2″.  I hear Kate translating my instructions to my husband who’s now stomping around in the kitchen. Then the phone rings. I’m just out of the shower, chilled and roughly towel-drying my hair in the bathroom.

My husband yells up the stairs: “Answer the phone!”

I streak out of the bathroom and grab the upstairs phone.

It’s the police.
911 Dispatch. What the??? The officer asks me if I have dialed 911. I say no!? Then I realize that our 4-year-old had been playing with the phone – we’ve lost the phone. I explain that she may have our portable phone and dialed 911 by mistake.

The officer questions, “Do you have 911 on speed dial?”

I don’t know. Maybe? It’s never happened before. I am late, starkers and dripping shower water all over the hardwood floor in front of an open window with a cool breeze wafting in.

“An officer is headed your way right now,” advises the 911 dispatcher.

“Please cancel,” I beg. “We’re on our way out the door!” I’m stressed. My husband is upset with me again for being late. The kids aren’t ready. I’m thinking the officer is probably 20 minutes away from us here in the woods.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. We cannot cancel. Just in case you are in a precarious situation and cannot tell us, we must send an officer over – just to be sure.”

“Can you PLEASE cancel? I have an appointment! I am late!  I’ve got to leaaaave!?”

“Excuse me, Ma’am. Are you okay? Is everything all right there? An officer will be right there – it will only be a few minutes!”

“YES! I’M OKAY!!! It’s a crazy morning! I’m late! I’ve got to get to an important meeting! Please cancel!!!”

“Ma’am. The officer is on his way.”

SHIT! I hang up the phone.

I’m nude and shivering at the top of the stairs.
“WHO CALLED 911??? Did Matilda call 911?!!” I am, how you say? hysterical.

My husband is sitting in his living room chair. My two daughters are huddled beside him looking nervous. Probably overwhelmed by my wrath. Or maybe it’s the sight of their buck naked and shivering mother screaming at the top of her lungs from on high.

“I did!” he shouts back.

My look is incredulous. “YOU called 911? What were you thinking? I hope we don’t get CHARGED for this!” I screech at my family in general.

“Your daughter told me to call 911!” my husband defends.

“I didn’t say call 911! I said CALL LINE ONE! Why would you call 911 to FIND THE PHONE?”

My husband looks sheepish. I don’t think he knows the answer. My eldest daughter Kate looks confused. She doesn’t understand the implications. She’s holding the portable phone – apparently found. My youngest daughter Matilda is wearing her older sister’s dress and has my ruby red lipstick smeared around her mouth. My husband remains silent. He’s holding something that jangles. “I found my car keys,” he mutters.

I burst out laughing. In reality, it’s kind of a half-cry. Mercury in Retrograde.   My husband is now a believer.

So what exactly is Mercury in Retrograde?
Here’s an explanation.

— With thanks to Spirit for infinite return.

(c) 2010, 2011, 2012 The Accidental Medium. UltraMarine Media Inc. All Rights Reserved.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 9th, 2010 at 12:24 pm and is filed under Mercury Retrograde, True Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.