Monday, August 8, 2011

The kind of day that should sod off and never come back

Saturday was not a great day. It was one of 'those' days. One where sticking my head in the industrial-sized drying oven and slamming the door would likely have been more pleasant and productive.
It began while making my lunches for the next few days. I normally try and do this in advance but I hadn't been exactly industrious the night before.
The lid of one container would not, no matter how much I wrangled with it, snap on. I love Tupperware, but sometimes it is just too good at sealing for it's own good, if you know what I mean.
While eating breakfast I tried to join Maxabella's 'Grateful' blog link. But the linky tool thing was slow and I thought it hadn't worked. So I did it again. And sure enough, when I got around to checking it a couple of hours later, it was there twice. Sorry linkers, I wasn't being intentionally greedy, just an impatient, technological idiot.
Short on stature but big on fury? I can relate.
Image source:

Anyway, moving right along. And when attempting to get dressed I couldn't find a clean shirt. I knew I had at least one left, but it was AWOL, so I picked Friday's out of the basket. The husband said my clean washing was probably mixed up with his and went to look for it. Three times I said, "Don't worry about it, I'll wear this one", but he ignored me and got it. Normally when I ask him to fetch something he's all huff and puff and Idontwanna - either that or, half jokingly says 'sure thing, if you *insert sexual favour* for me', so why he actually did it when I didn't want him to, is more than I can explain.
Next up, pulling my shoes on. I pull out a chair so I can do it sitting down, and turn to pick up the boots. Paul pushes the chair back in on his way past. He's the messiest man on the planet - why did he choose then to have his once-a-year moment of neatness? Again, fecked if I know.
So, I pick up my boots, pull them on, lace one up. Lace the other up and ping! The lace gives out. It's cactus.
Finally we get out the door and I try climbing into the ute - 4WDs are not made for females of the stumpy-legged variety, I can tell you* - and bang the side of my head on the door frame.
We got to work a bit late so I bunked off from the morning meeting. It was a Saturday, so chances were there weren't many bosses around who'd notice.
Got on with what I had to do, my fingers stiff and sore in the cold. Jammed one painfully between two steel pipes at one point. I didn't realise it was bleeding until half an hour later when I took off my rubber glove and the middle finger was coated in blood. Not pretty.
Then while doing some of the paperwork I put a couple of numbers in the wrong section. Later I couldn't see where I'd recorded them (obviously). Entered mild panic that I'd missed a vital step in the process. Fortunately I soon located them. End panic.
Time came to prep the sample solutions. Like a moron I failed to distinguish between a '10' and a '5' and used wrong sized pipette on one, necessitating doing it again.
The morning ran a little more smoothly from there. But I had yet to do the town delivery, and, given how well the day was going, I was a bit nervy about getting in a vehicle. I am clueless about cars and mechanical stuff, so if something went wrong I'd be up the proverbial creek.
The first 10 minutes of the trip went well. Then I heard a weird noise. Looking down in alarm, I realised I'd somehow gotten up to 120km/h. Phew. It was just the old rattle-mobil doing some extra rattling in protest. I returned to the speed limit and it behaved.
Once I'd made the delivery I decided to spend my break having coffee and hedgehog slice at a cafe. Another mistake. While parking I almost took out the verandah post of the shop adjacent to the parking space because the handbrake wasn't on properly and the vehicle rolled forward a frightening distance short way.
I got out and went to lean into the vehicle to retrieve my bag. Got blinded by sun, miscued and brained myself (yes, again) on the door frame. Stood there, half bent into the driver's seat, rubbing my skull, until someone in a ginormous wagon* wanted the park beside me. Unfortunately for them, my rear and the car door were blocking their way, and they were forced to wait until I had locked up and scurried off.
The day wasn't so bad after that - it's amazing what coffee and chocolate can do. A few sundry balls-ups like burning myself with the hot water tap, putting the wrong sample in the wrong bag, and dropping things left, right and centre hardly counted.
And finally the powers that be decided I'd been hassled enough.  "You can have a marvellous day now," they seemed to say. "Especially since it's basically over."
Well, powers that be, THANKS A LOT!

* Huge 4WD vehicles tick me off. We have one, and it especially ticks me off.

How often do you have days like this? What do you do to cheer yourself up at the end of them?

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