Sometimes, I wonder if my entire life is a set up for a blog post. Yesterday was one of those days.
Please, grab a cup of coffee, and make yourself comfy. It may be a while before I get to the end of this tale.
Yesterday, no one wanted to get out of bed, no one liked their breakfast, no one had packed their lunch the night before. Everyone was grumpy. Important paperwork that had gotten soaked in a flash rain the before, and left to dry out - well, it was discovered two minutes before we had to leave for school that the paperwork needed to be recopied. In addition, someone forgot to make a copy of a schedule, and two other people forgot to load their (enormously large) instruments into the truck the night before. This cannot be left to the last minute, as they have to go in the bed of the truck, under the locked cover, which then has to be positioned just so, according to the whim of Mars and the tilt of the sun, in order to close.
It takes a fine touch, is what I mean to say.You can't just jam a Tuba and a French Horn any old way.
We are supposed to leave the house at 7 sharp. SEVEN. At 7:05, the tuba player was attempting to pack said instrument into the case. If you know anything about the size of a tuba, you can't just shove it into the case and hope for the best. It was a struggle and a fight and then, only then, one of my kids freaking went ballistic on everyone.
WE ARE LATE AND IT'S ALL EVERYONE ELSE'S FAULT.
And then, the doorbell rang.
Buenas dias, señora.
Did I forget to mention that the plumber, due to arrive at 7 to repair a water valve in the overhauled bathroom that was INEXPLICABLY INSTALLED BACKWARDS SO THAT HOT IS COLD AND COLD IS HOT - well, he showed up right on time as well?
Buenas dias, indeedy. Ignore that screaming lady and just don't even look at the vein bulging from her forehead. Please to forget that teenager causing every other kid in the truck to cry. Discard the slamming of the doors and the growling of the masses.
So, yeah, we were a few minutes late leaving. I told my band kids to leave the instruments - I think my exact words were to hell with the instruments, I'll gladly make a second drive to school just GET IN THE TRUCK ALREADY. I may or may not have said some very unkind things to the oldest child in the truck, who was the cause of 98% of the ruckus. They may or may not have related to the removal of electronic devices from one's possession, and the threat of riding the school bus and losing the front door delivery one desires. The child was instructed to snap out of it quick. Said child then punished me with the time honored "I'm just not speaking to you" trick.
Go ahead, punish me like that some more.
All kids were dropped at the school, and no one was harmed in the process. I may or may not have proclaimed this a miracle worthy of helping someone become a saint.
When I got home, I decided that I was going to get on the treadmill to release some frustration. What my plans were apparently didn't matter, though, as my husband and the plumber had decided that, in order to inspect the water valve, they needed to open the wall in the laundry room. In order to accomplish that, they need to move the washer and dryer into the hallway, right in front of the door to the treadmill. This meant that, in order to get on the treadmill, I had to go out the front door, around the back of the house, and into the back room. No big deal.
Unless, of course you are A) frustrated and B) forgetful, and you have to go back for a hair tie, towel, water bottle, and a cordless phone.
But, HEY! I did pop out four miles, and got a ton of work done at the same time - thank goodness for my desk on the treadmill. Productivity increase for the win! The sweat was running down my back, my face was red and steamy, and I wanted nothing more than to be finished, already, and go get in the shower.
Until I got off the treadmill and realized I had an appointment, and needed to drop off the instruments on the way - and I went upstairs to get into the shower - after, of course, walking all the way around the house again - and got naked and went to turn on the shower
to realize that my husband and the plumber had turned off the water. And then they'd gone to Lowe's to buy a new part.
And this would explain how I MacGuyver'ed a shower by dumping a water bottle from the fridge into a 2 cup measuring cup, microwaving it for a minute and took a sponge bath. From a measuring cup.
In my kitchen.