Well, my morning's been shot to snap beans and back, which led to a busted afternoon, so I'm officially giving up and calling it.
Time of Death: Efficiency died at promptly 1:58 p.m. after a brief and painful battle with Monday Madness.
Efficiency is survived by her husband, Organization, and two children, Tidiness and Cleanliness (although they, too, have been battling Monday Madness and are expected to succomb momentarily).
Monday Madness crept into the household at approximately 4:00 a.m. when I awoke and then couldn't go back to sleep until finally passing out from sheer exhaustion at approximately 6:45 a.m.
At 9:00 a.m. I awoke again, miserable and furious, and stomped off for a shower. Which was not forthcoming because no water came out of the spout. Nor was flushing the toilet an option. Getting a drink from the kitchen flew right out the wondow as well. Did I forget to pay the bill?
Quick, to the spreadsheet! Nope, bill paid promptly on January 4. But perhaps the miserable bank had not sent it properly? Nope. Online account showed payment sent and received.
Next move: Call the water company! Busy. Call again. Busy. Call 12 times. Busy, busy, busy. Look online for another phone number. Find one hidden away and get through... only to find myself #26 in the que.
I am treated to agonizing muzak and assorted outdated water tips. (Did I know that I could water my lawn just once a week in the hot summer months?) As I look at the slushy, icy mess of my front lawn I am tempted to scream.
But I don't.
I just might need that scream later, after all.
Finally, a human being answers the phone, and we do The Dance. She puts me on hold at one point, and I get five more minutes of recorded lecturing about saving water in the arid months of summer. Finally, she comes back and asks me how long has the water been off?
What a question. I assume it was working this morning as Spouse would have woken me up had it not been working. Now I have to let this woman know that I was still in bed at 9:00 a.m. And just when I think I can't be any more embarrassed....
Gigi comes sashaying around the corner.
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you in school?" I shriek. (I'm not just surprised, I'm startled - I thought I was here with nothing but two cats.)
"I'm sick," she says in her very best I'm-a-pitiful-small-child voice.
Great. Now the water company rep thinks that not only am I a lazy bum, but I am also a horrible mother who expects her small child to get herself off to school all by herself. And Gigi's teacher is probably wondering why this is the second week in a row that my child has not shown up on Monday (we were "sick" last week, too).
The water department lady realizes she has the upper hand and asks me to try my water. I've got her on speaker, so Gigi runs over to the sink, turns the handle and hollers, "There's nothing wrong with the water, mama! It works just fine!"
Gee, thanks. Now I look like a total incompetent, plus my credibility is shot.
The water department lady tells me that next time I might want to check the water before I report an interruption in service, and I assure her that I DID check the water - several times, in fact - including while I was on hold, and -
Dialtone.
Three hours of house-drought and it comes down to a dialtone.
I can feel that scream deep down inside just building....
Back to the kid. There is no temperature. There is no droopiness in her eyelids or flush to her cheeks. There is, however, an empty Doritos bag and a movie playing on her portable DVD player, as well as every toy she owns strewn about the room.
Sick, my Aunt Fanny! I give my truant child ten minutes to get herself dressed and out to the car. She complains that she has a stomach-ache, and I, being a Big Meanie, shoot back that she might want to rethink eating an entire bag of chips in the future. And it's off to school we go!
On my return, the world's longest train insinuates itself between me and my home. I am trapped with nothing to do as I left my cell phone on the table and my Kindle in the bedroom. I consider letting myself scream and decide this is a really great time and place to do it.
Only I didn't realize the other drivers would be able to hear me.
But they could.
And they stared.
Despite my deep embarrassment, I was sustained by the knowledge that they were probably all just jealous of my ability to channel my inner child so easily. Seriously, who did they think they were kidding? Don't tell me they hadn't ever wanted to scream in their cars on a Monday!
And now here it is - 2:49 p.m. Time to go back and get Gigi.
I wonder if I have time for another satisfying scream before I leave?
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