WTF Wednesday

You ever have one of those weeks that just kicks your ass?  The kind that everything seems to be going wrong or getting on your nerves?  And then the week just culminates into one significant moment that perfectly sums up exactly how you feel?

I was having just one of those weeks.  Every day there was some little hassle that was crawling under my skin.  If it wasn’t the stresses at work, it was the housework that needed to get done.  If it wasn’t the housework, it was that dinner was ruined.  I know I’ve used the metaphor before, but it really felt like God had pinned a “Kick Me” sign on my back, and Fate and Opportunity were taking turns.

But it all came together on Wednesday.

After a long day of work, I finally made it home.  I went to the kitchen sink to rinse out the Tupperware containers I had used for lunch when something caught my eye.  Not one, or two, but a half dozen of ants suddenly sprang to life and began scattering around the sink and drain.   Uuuuuuugh, I thought, that pest control lady we used to have has definitely put a plague on this house.  Maybe we should’ve listened to her born-again Christian rhetoric after all…. I turned the nozzle of water on them and just dropped the plastic containers into the sink, annoyed.

Joe saw the state I was in and kindly took me in his arms, giving me a warm hug.

“Why don’t I take care of dinner?  What are you in the mood for?” he asked sweetly.

“Chinese,” I said without even thinking.

He immediately began looking online at reviews for Chinese food take-out places near us and settled on one that was highly rated.  It was a bit of a hike, so we hoped it would be worth it. 

When we got back home, we began piling our plates with steaming lumps of chicken, noodles, rice, and veggies, and settled ourselves in front of the TV.  I took my first bite and…blah.  Not terrible, but not great either.  I ate more because at this point I was so hungry I didn’t care.  And then I took a bite into what I can only hope was the chicken’s trachea and spit it back out.  I was done, in more ways than one.

We settled back into the sofa, curled up into each other as we lackadaisically watched TV.  I was finally beginning to feel settled, as if I had regained my composure and sanity. 

And then I had to pee.  Damnit.  One thing I’ve learned about being pregnant is when you got the urge, you better surge (or else you might splurge).  So I disentangled my legs, hoisted myself up, and made my way to our bathroom.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, I sat down and suddenly I heard it.

Crrrackkk.

WTF, I think.  What the f*** was that?  I stood up and turned around.  The hinge to one side of the toilet seat completely snapped and had been pushed to one side.  I stared back in disbelief.  Now, with it’s toilet-seat tongue sticking out, it appeared even the toilet was razzing me.

That’s it.  Game over, man.

I walked out of the bathroom, defeated, and collapsed to the floor, a la, Lloyd Christmas from Dumber and Dumber (“I got robbed by a sweet old lady on a motorized cart,” Christmas lamented).  Joe came running in and helped me back to my feet, but I avoided his eyes.

“I broke the toilet seat,” I muttered in near hysterics.

“Aww, come now.  I’m sure you didn’t,” he said jovially patting my arm and then walked back to the scene of my crime.  From the bathroom, I heard, “Well, now how did you do that?” Joe asked, perplexed.

It was the final injustice, the last nail in the coffin, the ultimate exclamation point to put at the end of a suck-y week.  I broke a toilet seat.  

Soooo, how’s your week going??

Surprises and Surmises

I can’t even accept flowers without making an ass of myself.

It was a pretty happy day at work.  I had stayed up the night before carefully baking and decorating my gender-reveal cupcakes to bring with me.  The next morning, I stood back and watched with delight as each coworker took a cupcake, peeled back the wrapper, and took a bite.

“I see blue!” one of them exclaimed.  When I confirmed it, I was overwhelmed with hugs and congratulations.  I was also relieved; I was so anxious about pulling off the little surprise, I double (and even triple) - layered the frosting on top to hide any trace of blue cake from peeking through, extending the mystery as long as possible.

After the initial reveal, I had fun watching my friends from other departments make their way to the cupcakes and discover my surprise.  Pretty soon, the secret had been fully revealed and my time in the spotlight had ended. 

Or so I thought…

Later in the day, when I was trying to refocus my attention back to work, one of my supervisors approached me.

“Hey, Security needs to see you,” he said.

“Oh?” I said, suddenly feeling my chest tighten. 

“Yeah, they said you maybe lost something…?” he replied coyly before walking away.

I got up and began nervously walking down the hall to the Security department.  What could I have forgotten?  What did I do now?  All the worries began toppling on top of each other, racing to claim residency in my mind.  When I finally got close, a voice inside hollered.

“Christine?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, ignoring the fact that I was being referred to by the wrong name. 

“Just go on through to the warehouse,” he said.

With that, the doors opened and when I stepped inside, I saw a man standing nearby holding a beautiful bouquet of blue and yellow flowers.  Two brightly colored “It’s A Boy!” balloons were attached as well.  It was so splendid I was completely caught off guard and didn’t know what to say as the deliveryman tried to explain how to take care of them.

“You just wanna put fresh water in them,” he said simply.

“Water…in..them?” I parroted back, the words not sinking in.

“Yeah.  You’ll just want to put water in them,” he said again.

“Water in them.  Right, yes.  Thank you so much!”  I stammered, thanking him as if the bouquet was from him personally.  As I began to walk back to my desk, I didn’t even think to see whom they were from.  All I could see was the name and address of the company I work for, so in my deluded and shocked state, I assumed they were a gift from the company.  Anyone I passed in the hallway that saw the big display and knew me immediately asked who they were from.

“They’re from the company!  So, I guess, from you!  I mean, sort of!…” I said deliriously, leaving the onlooker bewildered.

When I got back to my room, once again I caught the attention of my coworkers. 

“Aw you got flowers?!  Who are they from?” they asked.

“They’re from the company….I think.  So thank you all!” I said.  I deposited the flowers on my desk and walked back to the other department I was working in, not noticing the still silence that swept over the room.  I didn’t know what to think, probably because I wasn’t thinking at all, and just went back to my desk in the other room.

In a few minutes, my desk-mate’s phone rang.

“Oh, yeah, she’s here.  Ha ha, ok, I’ll let her know,” she said, and then she turned to me.  “I think you need to go back and read the card that’s with the flowers,” she giggled as she hung up the phone.

The realization of my faux pas began to settle inside me.  Of course, the card!  I thought.  Why didn’t I think to actually READ the card and find out whom they were from instead of going around thanking people who possibly didn’t have anything to do with it?

I walked embarrassingly back into the other room.  I tried to make light of the situation by cracking a few jokes, but I still felt like an idiot.  When I opened the card, I was even more surprised.  It wasn’t from the company at all; it was from my generous and thoughtful former coworker and her husband.  I was so touched, and again, didn’t know what to say.  Everyone was looking towards me, waiting for me to announce whom they were really from.

“Oh, they’re from Becky and Shock!” I declared and then added, “not…not from everyone.  But still so sweet!  And I mean, she USED to work here, so, you know, kind of…”  I let the inane and meandering thought peter out as I gathered up the last of my dignity.  I walked back to my other desk, passing the same people whom I had thanked when I thought the flowers were from everyone, and corrected myself.

“They’re from Becky.  Remember Becky?  Yeah, they were from her and her husband,”  I said, ashamed I had made a big deal out of thinking they were from my company when I should have given credit to the proper person by reading the damn card in the first place!

Everyone joked, saying it was just my “pregnancy brain” acting up.

Sure, let’s go with that.  But what’s my excuse for the past 30 years? I thought.

*Have you ever had a gift-giving or gift-getting faux pas?  Let’s share in the pain!