A No Good, Very Bad, Totally Rotten, Day

First thing this morning, after I put my ankle wrap on and slipped into flip flops, I tripped as I climbed the stairs to wake the kids.  Tripped, broke my flip flops, and hurt my hurt ankle.  Okay, shake off that bad start and think happy thoughts.

As I'm trying to get to work on time, I realize that I don't know where the car keys are.  My son drove it last and likely the keys are somewhere in his room.  Or in his pockets.  Maybe he has them right now?  I'll take the truck.  Not the usual truck, which is out of gas, but my son's truck, the '66 I have never driven before.  I handle it just fine, only grinding the gears once, when disaster strikes.  The passenger door swings open and one of the packages I'd planned to zip down to the post office at lunch, falls out into the road.  I quickly pull over, but not quickly enough.  The car behind me has run it over a little.  And as I watch, the next car drives right over it.  I run out and pick up the box, and as much of the loose packaging as I can and get back to the truck.

I'm late, and feel a little like crying, but I am a big girl and I straighten my spine and go to work.  At lunch, I drive the devil truck down to the post office, and mail off my undamaged boxes and reminded myself that the door opening could have been worse: I had a total of 6 boxes that could have fallen out.  I get back into the truck and it doesn't start.

It is out of gas.

Okay, that's okay.  I will walk home, and find the car keys and it will be okay.  As I start to walk, it starts to rain.  I pull out my trusty purse umbrella, only to remember (as it fell down onto my head) that it doesn't stay extended.  It's only a 10 minute walk home, but it is 10 excruciating minutes because my ankle is hurting worse with each step.  I eat a quick pb&j sandwich (comfort food at it's finest) and I call my sister to beg a ride.

Before we go back to work, we get a mocha.  Things are looking up.  It's got no where to go but up, right?

My husband calls on his way home to tell me the drivers seat in the family car has gone from being slightly hinky to totally jinky and a bolt that holds the seat to the cab has snapped off.

At that point I said this is God's way of telling us we should go out to dinner.

I must have been right, because this pizza is the best I've ever eaten!