Do you ever feel as if you (and the world) would be better served some days if you pulled a pillow over your head and never got out of bed? Little did I suspect, following my day of abject, public humiliation last week, things were about to sink to a new low, in part, because of a misstep the day before. In front of God and e.v.e.r.y.b.o.d.y.
Unlike Tuesday, a day over-flowing with the minutia and demands of life with children, Wednesday was simply fraught with frustration. Thankfully, typically, I am even tempered; my personality is not characterized by emotional rollar coasterism. Perhaps exacerbated by my third sleepless night in a row, however, on Wednesday I was fraggggiiile. (I should know better than to twitter at a time like that; those who follow me could tell something was wrong in less than 140 characters!)
My in-laws were due in for a visit the next day, and I needed to ready my home for company. Though they've never put pressure on me to have the house in perfect order, my mother-in-law is the consummate wife and housekeeper; I "do" to myself what she would never do, just because I want them to feel welcome.
Because they were coming to town, I also knew time online would be limited; I wanted (and needed) to edit some posts for Inspired Bliss and Blog Nosh, not to mention, write and schedule a few for PENSIEVE. Other details escape me now, but the day was agendized to get it all done.
Oh, the best laid plans of mice and men…!
Not long after I dropped the kids off at school, I got a call from my oldest son–an actor in the Fall play–explaining that the cast was dismissed from 10-1, I guess as consolation for countless hours of practice; they performed the play for the student body first thing that morning and didn't have to return to class until after lunch.
Unfortunately, he hadn't told me in advance, or I would've run the errands I needed to run while I waited on his dismissal. Because we live so far from the school, I realized an hour was just taken from my day…a very inconvenient time to lose an hour.
Screaming inappropriately at the top of my lungs Muttering politely under my breath as I drove to the school, I must've looked like a deranged psychopath–I was cussing m.a.d. my plans were interrupted! A healthy dose of mother guilt calmed the beast within, forcing me to acknowledge my own selfishness.
The guilt did little to minimize twitchy frustration.
When I arrived at school, my son had a cast-mate friend with him. In these days of outrageous gas prices, my eye is always on the most efficient route to get "everything done", so I asked the boys if they minded a stop at Wal Mart on the way home….
It wasn't really a question.
They were so grateful to get out of class, they probably would've gone underwear AND bra shopping with me! They were likely relieved they could play in the electronics department while I shopped.
My intent was to pick up just a few things; as is often the case, "while I'm there", I remember we're out of EVERYTHING, so a three-item trip turned into a 45-minute shopping spree and a mile-long receipt totaling $180.
As the cashier approached the end of my pile, I reached inside my purse for my credit card.
It wasn't there.
In a panic, I began looking through every pocket of my purse, every compartment of my wallet. The line was getting longer, my blood pressure was getting higher, the boys were getting embarrassed and the ice cream was getting soupy.
It still wasn't there.
As I lived out the definition of insanity–doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different outcome–I sent the boys to the car to look for my card.
We charge just about everything for the cash-back incentive (paying the balance monthly); that, coupled with the token amount I keep in my checking account, meant using my debit card wasn't a great option.
But it was all I had and I didn't want to have to re-shop those groceries, so while the boys were CSI-ing the car, I asked if I could charge everything with my debit card, then, WHEN I FOUND THE BLOOMING CREDIT CARD, transfer it to that.
OF C O U R S E, they said it wouldn't be a problem…as long as I did so that day.
As expected, the boys returned empty-handed, so I completed the transaction with the debit card.
We went home, unloaded groceries; they hung out, and I changed sheets, swept and vacuumed, dusted, washed clothes, folded laundry…and I'm sure, twittered and blogged until it was time to take them back to school.
Very concerned about having lost my credit card, then someone finding it and charging millions on it, I mentally retraced my steps. Eventually it hit me: I had given it to Rachel the day before and she had never returned it. A phone call confirmed it, so when I dropped off the boys, I planned to meet her so I could transfer the groceries to that card.
I always take water bottles in the car with me; sometimes, there's a stash of 3-4 half-full ones. Thursday, I grabbed a new one from the pantry, unscrewed the lid as we walked out the door, and got in the car. As I backed out, distracted, I was aggravated from all the open bottles that occupied every freakin' cup holder in the front of our car. I situated my fresh bottle in my lap, and continued on our way back to school.
As I pulled out of our driveway, the bottle tipped, and drenched my lap.
Which would've been bad enough on its own, but I had several stops along the way…and there was no time to change clothes…so…
to be continued…again