Tomorrow Is Another Day

As far as I’m concerned, today simply didn’t happen. The past twenty-four hours have utterly sucked from start to finish and as much as I try to look on the bright side, there ain’t no silver lining on this cloudy day.

It all began late last night when my husband alerted me to the fact that our washing machine was no longer. I wasn’t entirely sure how to wash and dry three loads without a machine and so called upon our good friend to assist us in repairing said lemon. Unfortunately, he was unable to drop by until today, leaving me pondering as to whether we’d need to replace said the washer with money which we’ve been saving for our holiday.

To distract myself from the utility disaster and to cheer my spirits, I decided to go through the complimentary holiday check list. It was fairly late by this point, I was pretty tired but certainly awake enough to realise that all was not quite as it seemed.

To my horror, I found that the date which I had carefully noted in my diary (and was quite certain that we were travelling upon) was in fact wrong by two days. Upon checking our original documents (which were emailed to us almost eight months ago when I first made the booking) I found that indeed, the dates were correct and it was in fact me that had copied the information incorrectly.

Blind panic immediately set in as I realised that not only were the flight dates incorrect but further bookings for travel insurance, kennelling and airport car parking were therefore also wrong. As I was unable to contact anyone to alter my error, I spent until this morning worried sick with barely any sleep.

Upon eventually waking, Paul hesitantly told me that he should be in work on one of the days that we are now abroad and wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to change that. As you can imagine, I was kicking myself with frustration at making such a silly mistake. How on earth could I (the queen of organisation) make such a monumental cock-up?

Thankfully I got in touch with the kennels this morning and they quickly rectified the booking without any issues. I felt far better and set about getting the kids ready for school as normal; brushing teeth, washing faces and combing hair… it was at this point that all hell broke loose as J began screaming in pain.

After further investigation, it became evident that J has a rather large patch of cuts and scratches upon his scalp which he has obviously being having a good scrat at causing irritation. I very quickly checked for nits or any other parasites which could be a root cause, whilst trying to console my son who was still sobbing uncontrollably. With no bugs to be seen I caught site of the clock and raced to get to work on time all whilst pondering what on earth could be the issue with J, and how exactly to get him to the GP without interrupting the working/ school day.

It was no use, I could hardly put off a medical issue regarding my son and so I set about organising an appointment which we were to attend within the hour. By this point I was fairly flustered but tried my best to remain cool, calm and collected as you do whilst life throws you lemons.

Having sat in the doctors waiting room for the best part of an hour, I was in a hurry to get Js antibiotic medication and to continue with our day. We dashed to the pharmacy only to find that the ointment required was out of stock. Typically the pharmacy across the road were also ‘all out’ of said ointment too. Aware of the time and hoping to be ‘third time lucky’ I raced back across the road and asked whether the medication could be ordered for afternoon collection which they assured me was possible.

Having arranged for the ointment to arrive this afternoon, we then left the pharmacy and headed back towards the car which we had parked close by. My mind wasn’t entirely on track as I was still mentally kicking myself regarding the holiday, the washing machine, J’s possible infection and a whole host of other personal niggles which I’d pushed aside until now.

“Jump in” I instructed J as I opened the door of the black people carrier.

“No Mum it’s not my chair” replied J looking rather perplexed.

My patience had worn thin by this point and I wasn’t up for him being finicky over which car seat he was to sit in.

“For goodness sake J just get in” I shouted pointing to the car seat which I must admit looked a little unfamiliar.

“Mum, it’s the wrong seat because it’s the wrong car!” shouted J with a worried expression.

Oh god, he was right! I’d somehow opened the wrong persons car door and was instructing my son to climb aboard, completely oblivious to our car parked two spaces down the road.

I very quickly shut the car door, which may I say in my defence was the same make, model and colour as our motor, I then looked around in the hope that nobody had seen only to find that I had an audience. Not just any audience but an audience that knew me and were now in hysterics watching as my face turned ashen red.

Being a good sport I had a giggle, I then got J to the car whilst in hope that my blunder would lighten his mood a little. J found it funny alright but he was a little concerned that I could have been done for theft, bless him he sure is sensitive at the moment!

Arriving back at the school gates, I bumped into the local postman who kindly informed me that he’d left a parcel at the back. I explained he’d need to inform the recipient and not myself. The postman repeated the information time and time again leaving me curious as to whether he was just too lazy to go back inside to explain, or whether like me, he too was in a rush to get on with his day.

It was then that he raised his voice, said my full name and explained that he had delivered a parcel at my property five minutes ago which he had placed at the back for collection. The penny finally dropped, I speedily thanked the postman and made a run for cover before I could embarrass myself any further.

You know those days that are barely started yet you know will never get any better? Yeh, it was certainly one of those and I should have known to stay away from anything which I could smash, spill or break, especially whilst within close proximity to technology. Yep, an hour or so later I’d managed to knock a fresh brew within inches of an almost brand new laptop.

You know the phrase “the straw that broke the camels back”, well I was teetering on the edge of tears by now but somehow mustered a little self-control and managed to hold back the water works whilst at work.

The day eventually came to a close and I was finally free to go home and to hide within the safety of my four wall fortress. A quick trip to the pharmacy to collect J’s meds and we’d be on our way… As it turns out, that was a completely wasted trip. The ointment which I’d been assured earlier in the day would be with us by the afternoon didn’t show up, leaving us high and dry for a further twenty-four hours.

By this point I was completely drained, I had no patience left whatsoever and wondered whether driving home would be safe. What else could go wrong? Knowing me – anything and everything! Thankfully, the drive home was fine, I drove extra carefully to stay on the safe side.

It was only when we pulled into our driveway that I remembered our good friend had arranged to repair the washing machine and bless him, there he was sat waiting.

Back to mad dash mode, I quickly opened the house and let the dogs out, got the kids sorted with drinks and helped my friend access the washer. Once he had started work upon the washer, I then made my way back out to the car to collect the school bags, work bags, lunch boxes and everything else ready for cleaning, sorting and organising.

It was then that I noticed our gate wide open, the gate which keeps the dogs safely in our back yard and the gate which the postman had obviously used and forgotten to shut. I dropped the bags and sprinted around the cul-de-sac to hunt down our hounds who were probably ransacking someone’s garden by now.

I worked up a good sweat before deciding to check our back yard to be sure they’d actually left our lawn. As it turns out, they were both stretched out sunning themselves on the paving slabs, completely unaware that freedom had been available to them both for the past ten minutes.

Dripping with sweat, heart pounding I grabbed the bags and returned to the kitchen whilst muttering a few profanities under my breath. It may have been mid afternoon, I may have had company and the kids may have still been sat in their school uniform but that didn’t stop me from opening the fridge in search of wine.

All done” said Derek looking proud of himself whilst patting the washer.

I wasn’t sure what to say, I was that close to tears that I simply threw my arms around the guy. I then grabbed the vacuum cleaner and set about dusting and cleaning the space in which the washer had stood whilst deep breathing to keep my emotions from escaping.

Derek didn’t stay long, I’m pretty sure that he knew I was in much-need of space and so made a sharp exit, leaving me to collapse on the couch for cuddles with the kids which is precisely what I did.

An hour or so later the husband arrived home, this allowed me to contact the airport parking and insurance whom have now amended our bookings and whilst this may have cost me somewhat, at present I couldn’t give a monkeys!

Paul and I threw tea together for the kids and tidied the house whilst discussing our day. We were equally tired, drained and distressed so the last thing we needed was to discover that the washer which we’d proudly put on, was no longer connected to the water. Yet another issue to deal with, meanwhile the match had kicked off and we’d scored a goal within the first few minutes marginally lifting the general mood in the house.

It wasn’t to be though and two and half hours later, it turns out that we aren’t bringing it home at all. To say I’m gutted is an understatement, but to be honest after the day I’ve had it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.

I guess ‘tomorrow is another day’. Here’s hoping that groundhog day is a fictional scenario as I’m not sure whether I could cope with a repeat of today!


rachelswirl

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.