I've just finished a rather horrendous week, and I'm looking at a few more horrendous days, but come Wednesday, I'm fixin' to collapse in a well-earned heap!
Something about that sentence did not come out right.
How crazy is it to schedule Easter, Tax Day, and the Spring Kid's Resale Shoppe all in the same week?! Who did that? And me on my back with a sinus infection that just refuses to acknowledge that he is NOT WANTED.
Well, luckily the Easter basket non-edible goodies were already purchased over the course of the last six months (I buy stuff on sale and then save it). Except that I forgot all about buying any candy. What kind of Easter Bunny forgets the candy?! The lame-*ss, loser kind, that's what kind.
Spouse and I looked at each other in horror when we realized this rather distressing state of affairs at 12:30 a.m. Being a good man, he ran to the all-night grocer and came back with the appropriate amount of Easter Basket Goodness. (He's also a wise man, because his wife - that pathetic poser of an Easter Bunny - was on the brink of Losing Her Mind. The candy thing would surely have pushed her into a padded cell....)
Which, upon reflection, wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing. Soft, warm, no responsibilities... Okay, I'm crazy AND stupid.
That's alright. Memorial Day is just around the corner. Plenty of opportunities to lose my mind before then.
The tax thing was easily solved. For the first time in years, I wasn't ready - couldn't find some receipts for my consultant work, so I had to file an extension. However, I am unfamiliar with that procedure, and the State of Indiana is a real pain in the butt because none of its online documents are very helpful, so I was a MESS. (This is fitting, by the way. In the past, I have been dangerously close to self-righteously snubbing those who wait until April 15th to take care of their taxes. I deserved a good fall for all that pride!)
The post office has also come up with a New & Improved way to screw you out of your money. Spouse hand-delivered my envelope to a clerk who told him that a guaranteed postmark of April 15th would cost $1.10. (This is on top of the 50 cents on the envelope.) Had I been there, I would have been taking names. If I hand something - literally - to a postal worker IN THE MAILROOM at 6:00 p.m. on April 15, then, by law, it must be postmarked April 15th. Spouse, like everyone else, decided to go along with the extortion rather than risk it. I don't fault him for doing this; I fault the post office for sleazy fear-mongering.
The Kid's Resale Shoppe - that was a killer. Had to gather all the spring and summer clothes from last year, launder, and sort. Then I had to make the tags - a situation that should have been a piece of cake because I created Excel documents last fall so I would never have to do them by hand again.
But that was on a PC. I am now a Mac user. Numbers is like Excel, but it ain't Excel. There were formatting issues. That took forever to sort out. I had one little problem with the margins that made me very glad that no one else was within earshot, I can tell you!
Then I had to pin all the tags in place and neatly place my folded items into a box (for those items you want returned that didn't sell).
Guess who didn't have a box?
Luckily, there's a U-Haul center a few blocks away, so I went and bought a box for $3.00. Which was annoying.
(It got even more annoying when, at the end of the sale, I went to pick up my clothes... and they were in a brown paper bag. A brown, RIPPED paper bag, I might add. Somebody out there has my box, and I just hope she's using it properly!)
I had everything all ready to go, and I climbed into my car to deliver them - all the way across town. I rarely go to that side of town. Which is why I had no idea that there was a massive construction effort taking place on 465. One that included a complete absence of the 10th Street exit. I mean, that sucker was not merely blocked off, it was totally gone.
That would be the exit I needed.
Did I mention it was rush hour?
I finally arrived at my destination with ten minutes to spare. Several detours and nightmare traffic turned a 20-minute trip into a 97-minute trip. I was stressed out because you have to drop things off by 7:00 p.m., or you don't get to sell. Period. But I made it!
I semi-repeated this performance the next evening (only this time I took a different route - HA! - but the traffic was now Friday night rush hour so it still took forever, but I left earlier). I had to be there because I volunteer at this event so I can attend the pre-sale (this is 90 minutes to shop before the actual sale the next day). I am very fortunate to have just the one kid. How the mommies of more-than-one-kid do it is a testament to their superior survival skills. These are the women who will kick butt in the face of a societal restructure. (I, on the other hand, will stand there with a confused look on my face until someone shoves me in the right direction. I just hope they don't push too hard - I bruise easily.)
The next morning I was supposed to be at the sale at 8:00 a.m. so I could fulfill my volunteer duty. I awoke at 7:38 and freaked out. What had happened to the alarm?! I had set the alarm! Spouse (who is very fortunate to still be among the living) rolls over and says, "I turned it off. I didn't know you had to be somewhere today."
Words. Fail. Me.
He watched me haul all the old stuff out to the car. He later apologized for forgetting to tell me about all the 465 construction. (Yes, stampers! He KNEW about it and didn't say a word.) He watched me leave to go to the pre-sale. He took Gigi to see Hannah Montana while I was at said sale, and then had her call me - while I was frantically trying to shop - on the cell phone so I could entertain her before the movie started. He watched me haul all the bew stuff into the house the night before. He knew I would be working the next morning at the sale as we had discussed this several times over the course of the week - AND THAT NIGHT RIGHT BEFORE HE TURNED INTO BED!!!
This alarm clock thing wouldn't be so bad except this is the third time he's done this to me in about two weeks. Clearly, something has to be done. The alarm clock will be leaving his bedside table and migrating to mine, for starters. And he will have to get a job - I don't care if it's running the fryer at McDonald's. He's turning into a complete airhead.
The ladies who run the sale are nice and accommodated my tardiness (I just ended up staying later). This time I got to work on some math-related tasks, so I was very happy. (In the past, they've had me on the floor, and man, is that boring!) I finally came home, exhausted (I was on day 3 of medication for the sinus infection) and famished. I bought a pizza from Papa Murphy's (you pick them up uncooked and then bake them at home), came home, and discovered that the stupid oven - which we just had repaired after not having an oven for five months - was broken again.
I don't know why I didn't just have a nervous breakdown right then and there.
Heaven knows, I've earned it! If anybody deserves an extended stay at the Funny Farm it's me. Me, ME, MEEEEEEEEEE!
I wouldn't repeat last week for a million dollars.
Well, okay, I would, too, take a million dollars. But I want it in cash in small, unmarked bills.
I hope to have the winner to the Challenge announced by Friday (Thursday if I can pull myself out of the heap).