|I think it's time for a medal
||[Mar. 29th, 2010|08:20 am]
"Why do you always have to look at the downside? Plan for the worst?" my friends ask. You probably think of me as a pessimist. Well, yes, Eeyore is my favorite Winnie the Pooh character. I wanted to be Owl...but got typecast as Eeyore. |
But really, I am a boundless optimist.
Because if I weren't, I would just take to my bed and never get out. Let the bedsores consume me, I don't care.
My plans for Saturday: several hours of work-work, as I'm running behind again and really needed to catch up. Running errands on the way home. Followed by a couple of hours of yard work, planting astilbes and weeding, until it really started raining, followed by some relaxing.
(Some of you can spot the tragic flaw. My achilles heel. A normal person would look at that list and say -- all in one day? You? You know something's going to go wrong. And that's an awful lot to try and accomplish.)
Well, it started to go wrong the night before, when ranting about something -- my usual topics, people who don't take care of their animals, people who think running a business is easy, people who think all of the world's problems would be solved if we'd just pray more often, people who don't know the difference between its and it's and your and you're -- it's a long list of possibilities. I broke my cardinal kitchen rule, which is, when you are cutting something, the only things in your universe is your blade, the "thing", the board and your fingers.
I'm actually pretty good at keeping this rule. In ten years of cooking for private clients and at home, I think I only got myself once and not too badly. I have to admit to about a dozen little cuts, but they were never from cutting something...just me being a spazz while cleaning, drying or moving a knife.
But this time I really nailed myself. Thankfully just the end of the knife, and I was rocking it, so it didn't go down to the bone and it was far enough out on the end of the knife that it didn't go through the nail. But I have a very nice slice, right into the nailbed and it was hard enough to get all bruisy -- which means it hurts like an SOB when the finger tip touches something.
So typing, yesterday, not so much. And yard work, also probably not a good idea. But, that's cool, I can re-bound. Alternate plans, activate! Let's go get a load of stuff out of the Captain's storage unit. He's been diligently making room in the basement. And, there's a car at CarMax I want to take a look at. Lunch in between...my errands when we get back. Whoo-hoo, we have a plan!
Except of course, the storage unit place has changed its codes and once we get all the way out there, we find that the code we had...no longer works. Oh, and of course the office is closed on Sunday. But, okay, okay, rebound! Let's go have lunch and then check out this car. In my price range, a Ford Focus wagon, this looks to be THE car. I called this morning to make the appointment -- after last week's fiasco, I thought just showing up would be a mistake.
So, we have lunch. And....of course, after waiting 15 minutes, we find out that what I ordered, they've run out of. But, hey, rebound! That's okay, I'll have the fish and chips instead. And when I go to put malt vinegar on the fish and chips...hey, wow, there's no shaker insert in MY vinegar bottle, so when I go to shake a couple of drops, I pour a quarter bottle shower of vinegar onto my fish and chips. But hey, rebound. I quick pull as much off the plate onto my bread plate as possible, so that most of it is not a soggy vinegary mess.
So, off we head to the car place. We wait for the sales man, who's still with another customer, but hey, no big deal. Then we go through the whole, let's photocopy your license, get the dealer plates, out we head....to the car with the big SOLD tag hanging in the window.
Yes, they sold the car 30 minutes before we got there. The guy I made the appointment with failed to reserve the car, or even put a note on it.
Seriously? I am OUT of goddamned rebound. I deserve a medal for just getting out of bed today.
A tiny, papery, wispy voice is saying "gee, I dunno, this is really coming out more bitter than funny..."
That squishing sound you just heard? Yeah. Let the bitter roll. Now, I've got to go get a paper towel to wipe off the bottom of my shoe.