Did you ever have one of those days? I had one this week.
It actually started the night before. My husband was out of town, so I stayed up a little too late watching Netflix and crocheting. Yes, I know, I am a rebel. Full disclosure — I was also sipping wine.
I set my alarm for 7am when I crawled into bed around 11:30pm because I had a physical therapy appointment the next morning at 8:15 about thirty minutes away from my home. (No, I don’t need more time to get ready. My PT knows that I roll out of bed, fix my tea, and then drive to her. I don’t always even comb my hair.)
When my alarm went off, I groaned, creakily rolled out of bed and realized that since my husband was not home, I would have to be the one to take the dog out for his morning duties. That accomplished, I came back in and got dressed. (Yes, of course I took my dog outside, on a college campus, in my pajamas. The students don’t even point and laugh any more.)
I dressed, made my smoothie, a cup of super strong black tea, and my special morning green tea laced with lemon, cinnamon, and honey. Since it was nearing time to leave, I crated the dog and started shuttling my parade of beverages out to the car. I put a water bottle and my black tea in the cup holders. Then, I wedged my smoothie behind my purse on the passenger seat. My green tea? I set it on the floor of the driver’s side for ‘just a moment’ while I ran back to close the door.
I know you see what’s coming…and this is only the beginning.
I shut the door, ran back to the car, and climbed in, forgetting that I had placed my tea on the floor thirty seconds earlier. My size 9s kicked the dainty little cup and dumped six ounces of sticky mess onto the floor. Since I was now running short on time, I reached in the back seat and grabbed the sheet we use to protect the seat from golden retriever hair. I shoved it onto the driver’s side floor and proceeded to my appointment.
When I arrived at the physical therapy office after my thirty minute drive, the office manager greeted me with, “I have you down for 9:15.” “Oh, ok, mind if I hang out here for an hour?” “Not at all.”
I pushed away the thoughts of an extra hour of sleep or drinking my beverages at home and found a seat on the couch in the waiting room. I checked my emails, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, then set my phone beside me on the couch and grabbed a magazine. When the magazine, a local healthy living piece, suggested that my ground was ready to plant peas and spinach, I leaned over to get a pen out of my purse to make a note. Just then I heard a swoosh-clunk and realized that my phone had slid down the space next to the cushion on the couch.
I slid my arm down the same space and realized that I couldn’t reach my phone to retrieve it. I stood up to remove the cushion to get better access only to find that the cushion wasn’t the removable kind. I got on my hands and knees to reach under the couch only to find that the bottom fabric was taut and secure. After another attempt to fit my arm down the crack, I looked over at the office manager — yes, the same one who had informed me that I was an hour early — and asked her for a little help.
Together we examined the couch. We reached into the couch. We tipped the couch forward. We tipped the couch backward. Finally we discovered a small tear in the underlining of the couch. If we tipped the couch backward then lifted one end higher than the other, we could coax my phone to the opening and free it. Mission accomplished. Phone freed.
But wait, there’s more.
I drove directly from my appointment to cast my vote in the presidential primary. That took a grand total of ten minutes — no complications. Phew. So, I drove home to clean the tea out of the car. Just as I entered campus, my car informed me that I had forgotten to get gas. It was gasping on the remaining fumes. So, I turned around and drove back out to get gas, then returned home to deal with the sticky mess.
The sheet I had shoved under my feet was one of those cheap microfiber ones, so it hadn’t really absorbed anything. It had just provided a barrier between my shoes and the mess. I grabbed a towel and started wiping up the goop when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my low back. I slowly rose to standing to assess the situation. “Come on, I gotta clean up this mess! I don’t have time for an injury!” In fact, I didn’t just want to clean up the tea, I wanted to wipe down the interior of the car, maybe run a vacuum, then put a clean sheet on the back seat.
After all, a student was coming to walk Chester with me, and the Dean requires that we take him off campus to walk, so we were going to have to take my car, and I didn’t want this student to see the evidence of my carelessness. I walked around a bit, grabbed the vacuum and a wet soapy wash cloth and went back to finish the job. By the time I was finished, the car, good ol’ Suze Cruze, was looking quite snappy — at least on the inside.
However, after maneuvering a couch and cleaning out a car, my body was experiencing some post-traumatic stress and pain. I had fifteen minutes until the student would arrive, so I iced. Then we walked. Then I iced some more.
Then I tutored. Then I iced. Then I tutored. Then I iced.
I’m happy to say that the following day my chiropractor was able to put everything back where it belonged. I wish I could say that he also was able to repair the disfunction in my brain that misunderstood my appointment time, forgot about the tea, neglected putting my phone in the pocket in my purse that was especially designed just for phones, and overlooked an empty gas tank. I mean, he’s a chiropractor, not a miracle worker.
I’m also happy to say that I was able to laugh my way through all of this. I hope I made you laugh a little bit, too.
a time to weep and a time to laugh,