Did Ya Ever Have One of Those Days?

You know the kind of day I mean. The one that starts the night before and just gets worse from there.

That's the kind of day today has been.

Let me start off by saying that I am not a wimp. I don't cry at the drop of a hat and I don't turn everything over to Dave to handle. I have birthed babies and dealt with the federal government and won. It takes a bit to get me more than slightly pissed off.

I went to bed early last night. I just couldn't keep my eyes open. So my 2 AM bedtime turned into a 9:30 bedtime. I slept like a baby. And I don't mean like one of those sweet little Nighttime Pampers babies. I mean one of those babies who sleep 2 hours then wakes up and cries. The pain in my back just would not go away.

Then I got up at 7 AM, which is just not natural for me. But having spent the night in Benedryl Hell, there was no more sleep for me. Just as well, I had things to do. An unscheduled trip to the grocery store was one of them. NOT my favorite thing to do on a good day.

First on the agenda, however, was a return visit from the maintenance man. On Tuesday, Michelle, my caregiver, finished all my laundry, 3 whole loads. When that was over she told me there was water on the floor under the washer. Great. A call was put in to Rico Suave, the maintenance man, who said it sounded like the pump was gone on my washer. Towels were spread out and Sears called to come fix it. The next morning, not only were the towels soaked, but so was the carpeting in front of the laundry closet and into the hallway outside the front door. (By the way, his name isn't really Rico Suave, but he said if I ever wrote about him, that's what he wanted to be called.)

Rico came back this morning and cut 3 holes in my bathroom wall, and confirmed that nothing was wrong with my washer, but there was a leak on the 3rd floor coming straight down to us. Sears was cancelled. Did you know that the inside of the walls of an apartment don't smell daisy fresh? Neither did I. They have kind of a dusty, spicy smell. Probably not good for my COPD.

This afternoon the carpet guy came. First, he wanted me to move a chair and some stuff from in front of our unused patio door, so that he could run hoses through it to suck the water out of my carpet. I explained (complained) that I wasn't going to move anything, and that we have cats and couldn't have the door open.
So he decided to come through the hallway entrance door. I was becoming more and more annoyed by the whole situation, and the fact that I could not understand his strong accent didn't help. Heck, I have a hard enough time hearing English.

This was about the time I decided I had had enough. I was annoyed and more than slightly pissed off. I told Dave I was leaving for Canasta night 30 minutes early.

Now let me explain something about my Dave. He is one of the calmest, most easy-going people you'd ever want to meet. An excellent quality for anyone to have, right? Well, today, that was his downfall.  Trying to calm me, and not understanding why I was so annoyed, wasn't working for him. "Now, Baby, there's nothing to get all upset about...."....WRONG!!!...I had plenty to get upset about, I earned my annoyance, and by God I was going to have it!! I didn't need a reason, and I didn't need to justify it.

So I left for Canasta. My partner and I won both games. I was feeling better after spending a few hours with my friends.

Then I came home to my carpeting ripped up, exposing tack strips, things moved into the kitchen that just didn't belong there, and an industrial fan that is blowing on high to dry the carpet and steal my sanity.

Did I mention that I was already anxious before all this started? I'm having a nuclear stress test on Monday. They are going to put some kind of atomic isotope into me, then watch the fun and games that it does to my heart. When it's all over, I'd better have some kind of super power....webs, flying, turning green when I get mad....something. I'll let you know.