Yesterday had so much potential. It was one of those rare times when I had the day off from work, with the husband away visiting family, no upcoming deadlines, and beautiful weather (not sure about that last one, but no harm, right?). I had even done the dishes the previous night and the bed was all made up. So I was looking forward to having the entire day to myself. You already know this is going to disintegrate one of my rants, so without further ado...
I started the day off with a nice hot cup of toffee-flavored coffee and BBC. Life was never better. When suddenly: the phone rang. It was my boss. I reluctantly closed my browser and got to work. That wasn't too bad really. I had finished all the interesting news stories and I didn't mind a little work in the morning (checked the phone to find out it was just before 9 am). When I finally finished by 12, I got a thanks (aww) and some fresh work (wwa!... = reverse aww). Still, nothing could disturb my equilibrium. Or so I thought.
I made a quick pasta lunch for my brother and myself. Poor kid still doesn't complain. And it's not like before. I can now make a variety of interesting dishes. I just choose not to. When I was done, I got out the laundry bag that was about half full and hauled it out of the house. That's one thing I never understood about myself: how I can tear a tennis ball (figuratively speaking) down the line with my considerably heavy tennis racket, but cannot, for the life of me, carry a laundry bag across the lot without a minimum of two breaks.
This was a task I usually entrusted to either my brother or my husband, but since my husband was away and the bro was nursing a ligament tear, the responsibility had fallen on my (as previously mentioned) weak shoulders. Let's just say that if I was Atlas, there would be a shattered Earth. Or maybe a bouncing Earth. Not too clear on Greek mythology. In any case, the cause of it would be me buckling under the weight rather than shrugging (I'm not much of a shrugger now, I use my words).
So imagine my disappointment when I get to the laundry room and find a girl using two out of three washers with the third one already occupied. Luckily washer #3 was close to the end of its cycle. So I made small talk with the 2-washer girl to get my breath back, then walked back to dump the laundry bag in the trunk of my car. I washed up the lunch things, tackled a little more work, and went back about half an hour later to find that all three washers were done but the owners hadn't come to collect their stuff yet. I was not about to carry the bag back across the road, so I waited..
I started the day off with a nice hot cup of toffee-flavored coffee and BBC. Life was never better. When suddenly: the phone rang. It was my boss. I reluctantly closed my browser and got to work. That wasn't too bad really. I had finished all the interesting news stories and I didn't mind a little work in the morning (checked the phone to find out it was just before 9 am). When I finally finished by 12, I got a thanks (aww) and some fresh work (wwa!... = reverse aww). Still, nothing could disturb my equilibrium. Or so I thought.
I made a quick pasta lunch for my brother and myself. Poor kid still doesn't complain. And it's not like before. I can now make a variety of interesting dishes. I just choose not to. When I was done, I got out the laundry bag that was about half full and hauled it out of the house. That's one thing I never understood about myself: how I can tear a tennis ball (figuratively speaking) down the line with my considerably heavy tennis racket, but cannot, for the life of me, carry a laundry bag across the lot without a minimum of two breaks.
This was a task I usually entrusted to either my brother or my husband, but since my husband was away and the bro was nursing a ligament tear, the responsibility had fallen on my (as previously mentioned) weak shoulders. Let's just say that if I was Atlas, there would be a shattered Earth. Or maybe a bouncing Earth. Not too clear on Greek mythology. In any case, the cause of it would be me buckling under the weight rather than shrugging (I'm not much of a shrugger now, I use my words).
So imagine my disappointment when I get to the laundry room and find a girl using two out of three washers with the third one already occupied. Luckily washer #3 was close to the end of its cycle. So I made small talk with the 2-washer girl to get my breath back, then walked back to dump the laundry bag in the trunk of my car. I washed up the lunch things, tackled a little more work, and went back about half an hour later to find that all three washers were done but the owners hadn't come to collect their stuff yet. I was not about to carry the bag back across the road, so I waited..
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