Ode to misplaced joy

Sighted on the way to pick Julia up at preschool this morning: an entire fleet of vehicles deployed by our town DPW to finish the leaf collection job they had not completed before last week's snowstorm. What should have been a simple task was vastly complicated by the mounds of snow covering all of the leaves, and as a result, the job required quite a few more trucks and workers than usual.

Evan, delighted by all of those big rigs, chattered happily about the trucks all the way to school. He wasn't the only one amused by all of the activity. I'll probably curse this entry when my increased tax bill arrives next quarter, but for today, I found an inappropriate amount of pleasure in the fact that I'm clearly not alone in my inability to get my shit together. It's a heck of a lot easier to dispose of an iced over dead mum than four million tons of snow and dead leaves, and the smug satisfaction that this realization gave me nearly made up for that embarrassing dumb plant which is still on my front porch.

Schadenfreude is alive and well and living in New Jersey.