It's a cold one.

Temperature this morning in Atlanta:  33 degrees F.  A pretty dramatic plummet since the weekend. Bad enough to clear the shelves at Kroger when the man on the TV said something about "possible snow."

Like those people up in Kroger, this time I was ready. Kids bundled up appropriately with hats and even gloves that I guarantee will not return home from school, but that's okay. Coffee extra hot for both Harry and me. I even used the insulated mug for my commute to work. Car warmed up including a push of the "seat warmer" button. Radio turned on and NPR man saying repeatedly between news bites that "it's going to be a cold one."

But that was okay too because I was toasty and heated-up-and-seated-up in my dusty Volvo and, for once, my kids were dressed right for the weather which is huge because I only get this right 36% of the time.

Hmmm.

Since the weather wasn't an issue for me, I let my mind wander to all sorts of things. Today it was worries. Things that I have decided to worry about since the elements weren't my problem.

Like how this economy stinks. And how it really stinks if one of the people in your household owns a small business. Yeah.

And like wanting my children to have better table manners or to enjoy doing their homework a little more than they do. And sure, I'm happy that they're great kids, but must they get out of their seats twelve trillion times during every meal? Must they?

Or. Just wishing I could have just slept in or curled up in my bed with the good book I'm reading instead of having to go to work in the clinic this morning.  Yeah.

I felt kind of blah.  Perfect for a cold, gray day, I suppose.

I turned the corner on Coca-Cola Avenue right near the back side of Grady and began heading toward the highway underpass. For whatever reason, there was traffic, which annoyed me because I was four minutes late already.

Blah.

I slow down and patiently wait behind the other brake lights. I look to my left and see this:

iPhone shot, straight out of my rolled down window

The bed of someone who had to get out of bed for different reasons than mine. Maybe they felt ill and had to go around the corner to be seen at Grady. Maybe. Or. Maybe it was just too damn cold out there to lay on the concrete. So much for wanting to sleep in.

Damn.

Chin up. Fight back in me. Feeling blessed and ready to go get 'em.

But even more, feeling thankful that the bed I left this morning wasn't that one.

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