Have you ever had one of those days?
This was the day of our once a month bunco Wednesday (we've been meeting for the past 17 years). I decided to shower and do my hair and makeup first thing. I had a pretty clear day - nothing scheduled but some light housework planned. Just a little puttering about. It seems like no matter how hard I tried, I always tend to run late and show up to bunco with either my hair tied back or a baseball cap on, not a speck of makeup on and wearing the ever unfashionable yoga pant and tee-shirt ensemble. Really, do that many people actually do yoga, or do they just want to wear the hold-it-in-place, never-binding britches. I indulged and took a long hot shower, complete with conditioner, and a leg shave (both of em).
Then the day from hell started. I mean REALLY started. You know the kind of day I'm talking about. You open the pantry door and as you're reaching for the box of cereal, you knock over a jar of sauce..... which you watch in slow motion as it plummets end over end before shattering on the floor. Not a simple glass breaking episode. But a powerful mini-nuclear-esq feat. It takes three turns to arrive from our kitchen to the front door. That jar hit the floor with such force that there were pieces of that stinking jar in my foyer!!!
A mere hour and a half later, I was finally able to make it back to the pantry to grab that box of cereal. You remember that cereal, the box that caused the cataclysmic issue above. Well, that STINKING box of cereal was EMPTY!!! Okay, I embellish, it had five pieces of golden grahams left in the bottom of the otherwise big, empty box! Another item to put on my grocery list. So much for my breakfast. I'll just grab lunch a little early.
I start the dishwasher. Not a major event. I'm piddling around the kitchen, wiping down counters, which somehow turns into a refrigerator clean out. Halfway through the dishwasher cycle, a toxic smell starts emanating from within. I open the door, yep, there is a gush of water that runs out. After all the dishwasher WAS running before I opened it. Stop, clean up water on the floor. Reopen door, with a little more care this time. Find that someone had accidentally put a throw away fork in the dishwasher, where it managed to work its way out of the utensil holder and down onto the heating element. However it managed to do it, it did. About 35-45 minutes to clean the inside of the dishwasher, and all the moving parts that ended up with bitty pieces of melted plastic on them.
When I finally closed the washer door for the final time, I looked down at the floor and realized how incredible the floor looked where I had just mopped up water, compared to the rest of the floor that just looked blah - at best. Another two and a half hours later, the floor in the kitchen, breakfast room, hallway, guest bath and foyer were all sparkling.
The dogs were clamoring to go out. Without a second thought on the matter, (dumb a$$, dumb a$$, dumb a$$) I let them out. I then headed to the laundry room. How does that poem go? "For Whom the Bell Tolls", ummm, yeah, right... completely out of context. There WAS a bell tolling, however, it was just the dryer bell telling me the towels were dry and fluffy. After folding an extra large load of towels. Switching from washer to dryer and reloading the washer, I was in and out of the laundry room in a mere 20 minutes.
That's when I heard the dogs at the back door requesting readmission. I wish my eyes would have communicated to my brain a second and a half before my brain had my arm opening the door for those mangey mongrels. (They're actually pedigreed but at this point I could care less - they were lucky to be breathing!) What should have been communicated quicker was STOP, the sprinkler had come on when they were outside playing and they turned it into a wet water find dirt game. And they BOTH won. In they ran. On my beautiful freshly washed floors. All of them! They slipped, they slid, they skidded. It was a doggie fest. I finally got them corralled in their kennel and ran to the laundry room where I grabbed the closest things I could find to clean up their wet gooey muddy mess, my freshly washed and fluffed towels.
Figure another three hours to wash, dry, and comb out: one still living and breathing Chesapeake Bay Retriever and one still living and breathing German Shepherd (Yes, I quantified that description. I don't want to hear any negative feedback from PETA people questioning.....) Another 30 minutes to wash down and defur the bathroom shower I used to shampoo those hairballs. Throw in another hour to rewash the entire first floor. Yes, it took me two and 1/2 hours the first time but really, by now I really didn't give a damn. The big chucks were gone. If there was some smearing, squint and don't look close!
Forget about lunch of any kind. School had already let out. My entire day was a complete waste of time. I had nothing to show for it. Now there was no time to prepare dinner for my herd. Plus, I still had to get ready for bunco. (My earlier shower, hair and makeup session was but a distant memory by now.) I was creatureisq. There's truly no better description that comes to mind.
Back in the shower I go, forget about conditioner this time. I'm lucky to get all the dog hair and mud off me in one sudsy maneuver. Well, so much for preplanning. I have enough time to either put on make and do my hair or run by the grocery and pick up dessert for my herd (yep, I'm feeling guilty for calling hubby and having him pick up something for dinner on the way home). My Bunco Babes are used to seeing me in a ball cap, yoga pants, and tee shirt. Why should today be any different.
In I walked to bunco, fifteen minutes late, starving, and ready for a very, very cold margarita or three...... I'm not sure if it was my imagination or did one of the bunco babes murmur - really, Baker's at home all day, you'd think she'd take a little time to make herself more presentable..... I decided to let my imagination take that one. Grandmother always taught me a young/old lady never throws a punch.
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