Well, I am giving it the old college try. Today, rather than listen to the radio - I listened to a little Keith Urban. Much better for my mood.
Of course work has already sucked. (For those that miss my old bitter self - here)
Then I read a story from Patti that actually made me feel that things cold be a hell of a lot worse.
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Hello ladies,
I am looking forward to the wine tasting party! I'm glad you can all make it.
So, I was in this all-day meeting today. Then I went to a wake for an infant. Then, off to a company picnic with the Gomez family.
All week, I am trying to figure out how to make the house absolutely perfect for this party I am having for a bunch of women that will be drunk in 15 minutes and won't notice anything anyway. The wine guy who is going to teach us how to drink at this party (because none of us knows how to drink), calls me to tell me has switched all of the wines on me. This means that the food that I have so painstakingly selected to pair with these wines is for naught! In addition, he is training someone so he will have a student with him.
On the way home, I pull into a gas station because I am riding on fumes. I have reconciled that I will pay $3.05 for a gallon of gas. There is a tanker filling up the pumps and four cars twisting all over the place to get close enough to their pumps. There are two free pumps but both are out of order. I pull out in a huff and decide to just go home. I burst into tears because I have just had enough today.
When I get home, I realize I still have more to do. The Burgundy colored bathroom towels are in the wash and need to be switched to the dryer (because we must coordinate!). A piece of trim over the cabinets has shifted and needs to be repaired. It will probably be too hot tomorrow to open up the house and have guests on the patio. By the way, it is supposed to rain tomorrow night also!
So I sit down at the kitchen table with a large glass of wine and I once again take notice of just how ugly my kitchen chairs are. I think they are from 1970. Now, you know me well enough to know that I have been shopping all week for four new chairs so I won't suffer the embarrassment of outdated seating. I just can't get them in time for tomorrow's party!
But wait!!! That's not all!!! Here is the icing on the cake!!!!
Several years ago, I noticed a white film had formed on the glass on my fireplace. According to the manual, this is not uncommon. However, you must buy a very special cleaner for this glass. About a year ago, I bought the special cleaner but never got around to cleaning the glass. Naturally, last week it became evident to me that I could not throw this party with such ugly fireplace glass. Earlier this week, J and I disassembled the fireplace (not an easy chore with a worry-wart like me dealing with gas and pilot lights!). We used the required cleaning product and got fantastic results with little effort. For whatever reasons, we did not get around to reassembling the fireplace until tonight. We put it all back together, lit the fireplace and it was beautiful! It did have that smell that you used to get when you lit the furnace for the first time so we decided to let it run for a while.
J was in the garage getting tools to fix the cabinet in the kitchen, I was in the basement drying the precious Burgundy bathroom towels when we both heard a "POP". Something went terribly wrong and the glass shattered into (literally) about a gazillion pieces. It was still intact, just shattered. We laid out a lot of newspaper, very carefully pulled down the safety grill and turned off the gas and pilot light. He didn't really think the pilot light was a danger at this point but I worry about everything. In addition, I really wanted J to put on safety goggles but he shot me a look that indicated I should back off. Then we looked in the yellow pages for a repair guy to call tomorrow. I poured a very large glass of wine and we came upstairs to play on the computers.
Every half hour or so we hear a crash and know that more glass has fallen out. I drain another glass of wine and J just buries his head in the computer. J won't even let me go downstairs to look at the damage. I think he is afraid I will have a complete and total nervous breakdown. He knows me very well and I love him for it. He keeps my wine glass full at all times.
So, in conclusion, I don't give a rat's &%*% what my house looks like. Just get over here and drink with me!
PS. In light of the fireplace mishap, outside shoes will be allowed (and required) on the first floor.
Patti C. Gomez