Thursday was going to be my glory day where I could catch up with myself, but the day turned into a series of fires to be put out.
I visit with my daughter most Thursday mornings, and while I don’t stay long I at least catch up with the family’s comings and goings. I would have to go very early this day because now that my other daughter is working it was falling on me to take 12-year-old Celia to her orthodontist appointment in Fulton at 10:00, and I was also able to get a haircut appointment at 1:15. It was all do-able and I hoped to slip sewing in there somewhere.
If only. When Celia was finally set free from being tortured (she needed bigger wires put on) it was lunch time and she was hungry, so I treated her to chili at Wendy’s and then took her home.
When I got back here, the Hubby was home for lunch and asking me if I got the brakes looked at yet. To my “no” he got a little loud, saying they were only going to get worse and they needed to be dealt with. The back-story here is that I had new brakes put on a few months ago but they were noisy and crunchy sounding so I went back and had them looked at. They cleaned them, which took care of the noise but not the crunching, so I just turned up the radio. Now the Hubby was insisting I go back yet again, so naturally I’ve been dreading it.
I would call after lunch, but I had one hour until my haircut so I ran upstairs and squeezed in a bit of sewing, with 15 minutes to spare. I got this crazy idea to phone a friend to see if she was up for ice cream after my appointment. She was not but wanted to tell me about the death of an old friend and as I listened I noticed with horror that the kitchen floor in front of the sink was hosting a slew of maggots! What has the Hubby been up to? He must have brought something in and set it down. I was killing them as fast as I could while my friend kept talking and the clock ticked away.
With only five minutes driving time left, I apologetically ended the call, and I promised my floor I would mop it as soon as I got back. But on my way home my cell phone rang. Another friend was telling me she had been given a sewing machine to donate to our quilt group. I was in the neighborhood so I veered right and put it in my trunk.
By now my brain was on fire because I had laundry in the dryer, laundry on the line, mail to be brought in, and a message on the answering machine. But first and foremost I mopped the kitchen floor. While the floor dried I listened to the message: “Your prescription is ready for pickup.” I-yi-yi! I did not want to get back in that car! Oh yeah, the car. I called the mechanic. He wouldn’t be able to see me until next Wednesday unless I came in right that very minute.
I guess I WAS getting back in the car. Wait, there’s a sewing machine in the trunk. I got it out and set it inside the door with a pat and a promise and hurried off. I assumed the mechanic was just going to take a peek but I assumed wrong. I would be there an hour and a half because he decided to replace the new brakes altogether. Apparently they were bad from the get-go.
I looked at my watch. It would be four o’clock by the time I got out of there. I still had to hit the pharmacy and get home to get the pizza dough out of the fridge to warm up. Laundry was still waiting, mail was waiting, and the sewing machine was waiting. I couldn’t shut off my mind.
Once home (with incredibly quiet brakes) I took care of the important things and when putting the sorted mail on my desk I spotted a bill that never got paid — and was due yesterday! I quickly called the office and explained my oopsie with my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t get charged that late fee. Even though every fiber of my being was screaming no, I was ready to hop back in the car if I had to. She said I could pay it over the phone.
And that was all before dinner. At some point I shorted out.
Hide the car keys and put your feet up, Debbie.