I tried. I really, really, really, really (with extra reallys!) tried to stay cheerful yesterday, I tried to take the annoyances as they came and tell myself that Hey! Coming back from a trip is hard! Keep expectations low! Everything will be perfectly fine!
But by the end of the day I just wasn’t feeling all that fine, you know? I was feeling rather sucky, in fact, and I was tired of trying to pretend that I wasn’t. I had a good cry and went to bed. (In my OWN DAMN BED. I may have whispered sweet nothings to my pillow before drifting off.)
We went away. We had a lovely trip. We saw lots of friends and family and enjoyed the wedding and ate all manner of delicious foods and encountered minimal travel difficulties (you know, if you don’t count my husband’s near eye explosion from the outbound leg) and it was all perfectly lovely. Until we got back.
Upon our arrival back in Atlanta, we foolishly tried to use one of the parking ticket machines to pay for our parking before going to the lot to retrieve our car. The machine sucked the card in and then decided it was out of order. We pressed the call button; after about twenty rings someone picked up and said she’d send someone “right over.” We waited and waited and waited and pressed the call button again, and blah blah blah blah, geez, I’m boring MYSELF with this story, but suffice it to say that EVENTUALLY the guy came and got our ticket and took our money and let us go. But that was annoying.
On the drive home from the airport our car was almost hit. TWICE. Now we all know I’m a bit prone to exaggeration (no, really?), but I have to tell you that amongst Otto’s many very fine qualities is the fact that 1) he is the best driver I know (handy for the racing stuff he does) and 2) he is not prone to road rage. I guess technically that’s two facts. Whatever. ANYWAY. Twice on the way home he had to swerve and stand on the brakes to prevent someone who wasn’t paying any attention from merging lanes via merging into our car. When I’ve just been on a ride with Otto where he’s laid on the horn twice, I’m a LITTLE NERVOUS, is all.
We arrived home to our new! wood! floors! finally! And there was much rejoicing! But only briefly. Because the wood is gorgeous. And the contractor has done quite a lot of work for us and seems like a great, conscientious guy. But the installation of THIS floor? Craptastic. There are gaps. Some of the gaps have gaps. There are missed cuts. There are uneven spots. I am not altogether unconvinced that this floor was installed by blind woodchucks. I VERY VERY VERY RARELY spend the kind of money something like a hardwood floor costs, and CALL ME CRAZY, but when I DO spend that money, I want it done right. We are waiting for the contractor to come over today and have a look but the reality is that the floor is in and the wood has all already been cut. So what’s the fix here? There IS no fix. They wrecked the floor. I am livid. Otto keeps trying to talk me off the ledge and I am running around sticking pens and pencils into the wood gaps and babbling “DO YOU SEE THIS?? DO YOU SEE???” (Unrelated: Otto seems a little tense. Not sure why.)
Our neighbors said they would water my plants for me while we were gone. The bad news is that they apparently forgot. The good news is that it rained a bunch! The bad news is that before it rained, two of my four tomato plants burned to a crisp. The good news is that those plants all have tomatoes with bottom rot, anyway, so at least I still have my Romas. The bad news is that I am not feeling very neighborly towards the neighbors right now.
After writing about my kids’ need for a decent piano I kicked the piano search into high gear and found an UNBELIEVABLE deal on a really nice Korg keyboard. I ordered it and it arrived yesterday. Three of the keys stick. They’re taking it back, no problem, and paying the shipping, but it was an “open box return” and they don’t have any more of those so I can’t get another. We are still pianoless. Also, we have to drive a gigantic, heavy box over to FedEx.
Last night my daughter called me in hysterics and it took a long time to unravel what was going on. She’s fine (I think) and this is the last trip this summer and there’s less than a week to go but it’s a hard and awful and helpless feeling, being so far away when she’s needing me. Also, Monkey got hit in the head with a rock on his first day of camp. He’s fine (I think). Five more days. Deep breaths.
So other than almost getting killed, having ruined floors, dead tomato plants, a broken piano, and feeling like being away from my babies right now is not so much breaking my heart as slowly shredding it, everything is just fanfuckingtastic, thanks.