What a craptacular day!

Right at this very minute, I’m burning sandlewood incense, drinking hot vanilla and cherry tea out of my Keep Calm and Carry On mug, and eating gummy bears out of my great grandmothers Havilland Limoges bowl.  None of the rest of my day was this nice.

It all started the minute I woke up – at 7:20.  I ought to be used to it by now.  I never, never, never get up on time.  Ever. 

“Everybody up!” I holler.  Sassy, who was in my bed flies out from under the covers with me.  She claims she’s with me because she had a nightmare.  That’s a moot point.  She’s always in my bed when I wake up.

“It’s all my fault, I didn’t hear my alarm,” she moans. 

Guilt is a tasty breakfast, let me tell you.  

I assure her it’s not her fault and that she’s not responsible for waking up her mother.  The Bandit isn’t as easy.  He takes a lot of coaxing.  I do this from inside the shower.  It’s not the best plan but it works for us.  Sort of.

While I’m in the shower, something I would have forgone due to the late time except that I didn’t wash my hair yesterday and, seriously, one extra day is the limit, I come up with the outfit of the day.  I build the entire thing around the shoes.  The boots tie the whole thing together.

I get dressed.  Sassy gets dressed.  The Bandit whines and finally gets dressed.  I give my hair a rudimentary blow dry, shove a barrette in it, and toss all my makeup in a bag to put on when I get to work.  I send up thanks to the God of Snooze Bars that I had the foresight to pack the kid’s lunches at 1:00 the night before. 

I yank on socks as I head down the hall to make breakfast.  No Pop Tarts.  No Danishes.  I make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and try to make it sound like a treat.  I listen to complaining while I pull up the boots – lovely knee-high,  black-leather with heels.  And the zipper breaks.  I have no time to mourn.  I also have no time to change outfits to go with new shoes.  I grab the first pair I can find and shove me feet into them.  My outfit is no longer cute – merely serviceable. 

I’m trying to push the children out the door, and Bandit whines, “I’m thirsty, Mommy.”  What can I say?  I’m the one who made him eat peanut butter for breakfast.  I trot over to the fridge, shove a plastic take-home cup into the water dispenser, and get doused with water.  Deep sigh.  Ugly shoes, wet sweater.

On the mad dash to school, “we’ve got eight minutes, guys!”, Sassy asks if I remembered to clean up the dog puke.  Did I forget to mention the dog puke.  And yes, I forgot to clean it up.  

I got the kids to school before the bell rang – miracle of miracles – they do go to an Episcopalian school after all (if only I believed!)  On the trek back to the car, I leave My Honey a very, VERY apologetic voice mail about the dog puke.

Ava refused to accept my resignation.  Again. 

I attended a 2 1/2 hour meeting during which I received an email on my phone from MY AGENT regarding a battle we are waging – it’s not going smoothly and now we’re ready to pull on the hip waders and slog into the shit.  I spent several hours this evening not writing but instead emailing my national and local representation and finding a local intellectual property attorney.  MY AGENT has valiantly duked it out and now we need a bigger gun.  Unbelievable.

All of that sounds like crap, right?  But wait.  There’s more!

After all that emailing was done, I went into the living room to tell My Honey what I’d found.  He was seated on the sofa using my lap top because his computer imploded two days ago.  I positioned myself near the arm of the sofa, not somewhere I have probably ever stood before, or at least not for any measurable amount of time.

I looked up and I noticed a huge, black circle on the curtain.  I pulled it away from the wall and noticed there’s black on the wall and on the back of the couch.  It appeared scorched.  It actually looked as if something was smoldering against the curtain, sofa and wall.  I started to freak out a little thinking of how horrifyingly close we could have come to losing everything.  I don’t want to even think about the danger for the children – but all our stuff.  Gone.

My Honey, with a slightly cooler head, was trying to figure out what electrical item could have been positioned there to cause such damage.  While he was trying to pull the furniture away from the wall, I began inspecting the drapery a bit closer.  It totally looked charred.  However, it didn’t have a smell, which I thought was odd.  I expected a burnt smell.  I rubbed the wall and the blackness seemed to give way a bit.  I smelled the couch and  the wall.  Nothing.  It sure does look burned though.  I scratched at the curtain but no part of the blackened material budged.  My Honey licked his finger and rubbed it on the black circle on the wall and a swipe of white showed through.

I cocked my eyebrow at him, and very tentatively, VERY TENTATIVELY, touched my tongue to the drapery.

Who wants to guess what it was?  Anyone?

Chocolate pudding.