Back to school "freedom?"

Back to Shool! These may not be the three most powerful words in the English language, but they certainly conjure up images. Excitement, fear, new clothes, the smell of crayons, the sound of the bell, and for mothers FREEDOM!
Anyway that was my thought. But this year the freedom lasted exactly long enough for me to walk into my basement and check the message on my answering machine. Alas, the light was blinking. My boss had called and he needed my help.
I chucked plans for a leisurely breakfast with other school-liberated mothers in the neighborhood and got on the phone, made some calls and started writing about a tragedy. This time it was the story about a 17-year-old high school girl killed in a car crash the night before she was to start her senior year in high school. Her car was hit head-on by a woman who had four children in her vehicle. The children ranged in age from 9 years to 4 months. The mother and her 4-year-old daughter were trapped in the car as flames leapt 10 to 10 feet in the sky. Everyone who survived was taken to metro hospitals in Salt Lake City.
That was my Tuesday. (Well, I already wrote about the bird in the basement incident, which finished out the day.) I didn’t sleep well that night because our air conditioner quit on us. It was hot, and windy, and I was fretful about a request that I hustle up another feature story by Wednesday afternoon.
Wednesday, after figuring out what I was going to write about (people who home school their children) I spent five hours interviewing then writing the story. I whipped up supper and headed out to a four our gripe fest posing as a Stansbury service agency meeting. The topic of all the excitement, a $40 a year tax rate hike.
Thursday morning found me writing the Stansbury service agency story, and a follow up column to the accident story.
This brings me to my NAP ~ it was fabulous, but rudely interrupted by my boss calling to ask if I would take a photo for him tonight.
Tomorrow I’ll be doing laundry, mopping floors, washing dishes, in short I’ll be doing all the things I should have been doing all week instead of writing stories. Oh yes, the air conditioner repairman should be here tomorrow, too. Meanwhile, the roof of my deck and carport are being ripped apart by “repair” men.
So much for enjoying the luxurious freedom brought only by back to school days.
Next week for sure!