Comedy of Catastrophes

I had a TERRIBLE day yesterday. I was up most of Sunday night (the time of my last post was 4:19 am). Right before I went to bed, after my second snack, I stubbed my big toe on the vacuum and split my big toe nail (which looked lovely from a shimmery French pedicure I'd done the day before) really far down. I had to bandaid it so I don't snag it before it grows out enough to cut.

I got up for work feeling WRECKED, and a little dizzy. I showered, went into the office and attended a training session on our new phone system. I will never get that hour of my life back. I think Luna (our crazy old white cat) could have figured out how to use it without the training(probably not Jack...unless there are shiny components).

I told my supervisor I was going home. I was tired, sad, confused, and ready to get out of the office...which is exactly the opposite of what I should have done. I spent the rest of the day on our couch watching bad TV and feeling lonely and on the verge of tears. But let's go back a tiny bit...I was robbed. Yes, I left the office to find that all my cash and change were taken out of my purse while I was in the training. For the purposes of this posting, I won't speculate or accuse.

So I have a miserable day, and by 7 pm I'm feeling worse, so I go to hang out with some friends. A freakishly bad storm ensues...complete with gusts, lightening, and fences overturning. As I leave to go to my car, I fall into a 5-foot deep trench that had been washed away. It was dark, and I was shocked, scared, and grateful that nobody else was around. It's ok, you can laugh, I won't know.

I realized, as I scrambled out of the shoulder deep trench, that my shoe was still in there. I went back in for it. I got in my car (I didn't bother to clean up....I was too frantic) and cried all the way home. When I got in my car this morning, I would have believed that a sheep dog had shaken muddy water off him/herself in my driver's seat.

So I got home, I walked in the door, droppped my purse, waterbottle, and muddy jeans. The boyfriend's welcome home smile melted off his face, he put his book down, and ran to give me a hug. I gently brushed him aside with, "I need a shower...sob...I just feel so defeated right now".

As I washed the mud away and assessed the damage (I have a pretty nasty abrasion on my hip), I heard him bustling about. He hid my jeans and t-shirt so the sight of them wouldn't upset me (I'm sure I'll be much more upset when I see the mayhem in our hamper from that action...but I appreciate the effort), he'd cleaned my Doc Marten sandles (and got teary doing so...he said, "It's just so...heehee... sad. Please, heehee...don't look at me with that...heehee... face...I feel so bad that this...heehee... happened" with nervous laughter strewn in the sentence). When I emerged in a towel, he was scrubbing the last evidence from my purse.

I hadn't eaten during the day and was starving. He made me cut up tomato, smoked salmon, Dubliner and crackers (I always call it Berliner because I forget which it is), and camomile tea. We chatted, listened to music, I got a massage, and I drifted off to sleep.

Wow, what a CRAPPY day!