It is rare that I have a bad day. Normally even a day that starts off wrong can be saved, and sometimes if you have a great morning it can deteriorate by bed time. Most bad times are not bad days and when a day starts off wrong, you still have a hope to save it.
Today was not one of those days.
It all started when I tried to take the truck the the mechanic. Long story short, the truck was just there to get aligned last week and when I tried to drive it on Wednesday it pulls dramatically to the right. It is like worse than a republican (ba dun dun). Obviously, they didn’t do their job correctly when they aligned it or it wouldn’t be pulling like that.
I got down to the mechanic about 20 minutes after they opened. I took in my little receipt from last Friday and pathetically explained what was happening. They gave me “the look”, you know, the one that all wives get from their husbands on a regular basis, the -this bitch cray- look. But I remained steadfast and they agreed to look at it. I sat in the waiting area for over 45 minutes before I finally saw a guy get into the truck to drive it. When he pulled back into the parking lot he came in and told me that the vehicle is pulling to the right. No shit. He then said he would swap the front tires and check it again and let me know. So another 45 minutes later, he came out and told me that it is pulling just as hard as before. Helpful.
He then goes on to explain to me that the truck needs to be aligned. I am not sure, but I think my head may have started spinning in circles. I calmly explained that I was just here last Friday to GET THE TRUCK ALIGNED. Then he starts blabbering nonsense and showing me the receipt and something- something- casters- 4.2- something- blah blah blah. I think he is trying to tell me he did something wrong? I just stare blankly at him. He tells me to make an appointment. I bite my tongue off trying not to lose my shit. So I finally smile politely and say that yes, I will make an appointment.
At this point, I begin to walk toward to receptionist to make the appointment. The mechanic turns to me and scoffs. HE SCOFFS and tells me he parked the truck out front. Little Darling is almost dislodged from my hip when I spin my body so fast to explain to the mechanic that I will be going over to the receptionist to make my appointment so they can fix what they effed up last week. He scoffs again and stomps off. I make my appointment for Monday, making sure the receptionist makes note that this alignment will be free since they can’t get their act together enough to do work correctly.
Thinking this will be the worst of my day I head for home.
I am 3 houses from my home (3 EFFING HOUSES) when I am cut off by a mass of people. Now let me be clear, I try to keep my prejudices to myself. I don’t like to force my outdated and rude opinions on other people. But I do live in a crack town, with lots of ghettos and stereotypes run rampant down here. So lets all just envision for a moment, little white girl with her young white daughter in a small back alley with a group of about 60 “african american” people blocking her way and not letting her through. I break out in a sweat that has nothing to do with the weather, and hit the lock button on my doors. I begin to wonder if the zombie movies are correct and I can really run people over with my truck, that IS why we have a large vehicle right? Panic settles in my chest and grips my lungs.
I slowly inch forward while the crowd shows no sign of moving. When I finally come to my senses, I notice that all the gangstas are wearing their Sunday best and there is a hearse sticking out of the back yard. Am I interrupting a funeral?? After about 10 minutes of no one even realizing that I am sitting in the middle of the road trying to get through, a little black grandma toddles out and starts waving everyone out of the way. Thank god for grandmas. They slowly meander towards the side of the road and press themselves against the cars lining the pavement. Well, that leaves about a 3 foot opening for my 7 foot wide vehicle to pass through… after another 5 minutes they grudgingly move off the road and glare at me as I pass by. I wave apologetically (I really didn’t mean to interrupt a funeral! Maybe they should have had a sign or something! I could have taken a different road!) while simultaneously hating that I have to constantly apologize for being white in my own neighborhood (this is where I live, why do they get to act like they own the whole place? I live 3 houses down! Why should I have to do a 10 minute detour to go down different roads just because they are too rude to get out of the middle of the street!) When I finally get home, Little Darling is asleep and cries when I wake her up to take her in the house.
She refuses to go down for a nap and spends the next 5 hours trying to convince me she isn’t tired. When she finally goes down at 2pm I enjoy a well deserved nap for an hour. When she wakes up. Something is amiss. She is unusually snotty and is sneezing and coughing. Weird. After lunch, things only continue to go downhill. She is crying and has a bright pink nose. I continuously use the snot sucker to rip adult size boogers out of her head and begin to remember my Great Uncle mentioning on Wednesday that he had a cold while we were at dinner. Darn it.
So progressed the long night of neither me nor Little Darling getting any sleep and certainly no rest. She would wake up crying and crawl desperately around her crib trying to figure out why she couldn’t breathe right. Even when she would drift off into a fitful sleep I couldn’t rest knowing that she wasn’t comfortable. Many hours were spent in the rocking chair with her sad little whimpers and me singing The Beatles to keep her calm. Morning came and with the sunrise Little Darling got a new rush of energy. I turned on the coffee pot and hoped for the best.
When she was awake, she was in good spirits and seemed content to crawl around the living room and down the hallway and play. I was in that weird insomnia fog where I wasn’t actually awake and hadn’t gotten to sleep. She barely napped, and we were expecting a visit from Mimi that afternoon. Thankfully, Mimi brought pizza so I didn’t have to cook, and she played and fed and changed Little Darling so I could remain stationary on the couch and pretend that I had my wits about me. When she left, I got LD a bath and a dose of Tylenol and off to bed at a decent hour.
Now, lets hope that mommy can sleep off these last couple days.