Ever have one of those days where you’re just irritated? Where the slightest thing that goes wrong you just want to scream in frustration? Or just say, “Oh, God, why me?”
Yeah, I’m having one of those.
This morning, I carefully poured my coffee, knowing what kind of day it was, I monitored my every move. But then my bathrobe caught on my chair, causing me to stop suddenly, which in turn made me spill my coffee anyway.
I looked at my coffee all over the floor, feeling the rage building up ready to explode, I knew that I should just go back to bed. After all, what could happen in bed? If anything, the rest of the house would be safe from my black cloud. Nothing would get broken or spilled and my dogs could come out from underneath the coffee table where they felt safe. As I walked into my room, I kept smelling something horrid. Was it my breath? No, I’d just brushed my teeth, couldn’t be that. And then I saw it. A pile of dog poo. Not just any old pile, but a flat one missing a chunk in the middle.
The scream started in my belly and exploded out past my lips in a long, drawn out “NOOOOOOOoooo!!!!” as I looked down at my new slippers. Could this really be happening? For real?
Okay, think. Look around, sit softly on the edge of the bed and take off your soiled slippers, taking care not put your finger in poo. Lay back, arms out, head not hitting the wall and just close your eyes. Nothing will hurt you here, nothing will break.
The phone rings. I open my eyes and panic ensues. The phone is two rooms away. The house, a virtual gauntlet.
Two rings, I cautiously peek out of my bedroom doorway surveying the distance between my room and the phone. Fifteen steps at most. I can do this. Looking left and right, up and down, I quickly take my first three steps, my feet slipping precariously on the dog slobbered floor by the water dish. I stay upright, first challenge met and conquered.
I laugh in triumph, shaking my fist at the offending puddle and hurry on. Three rings now. As I cautiously make it to the dining room, I again survey my surroundings. I see no danger and move on. So far, so good. I’m feeling a little cocky now and pick up the pace as the phone sounds out it’s fourth ring. Just as I’m about to pick it up, I feel something hard and painful on my right foot and stumble. It’s my grandson’s matchbox car on the floor. Not able to stop the momentum of full body pressure on the car, excruciating pain shoots up through my foot, causing me to lose my balance. No, please, not now! I’m almost there! Arms cartwheeling, I fall to the floor, the phone meer inches from my grasp.
Lying there on my side, foot throbbing in pain, the phone silent and dead beside me, I’m defeated by the day. My Pomeranian, ever curious, comes to my side whining in sympathy, and then does what all dog owners hate the most. The horrid moment when a thin, flat tongue slips between your lip and into your mouth…….
© 2016, RissRyker518. All rights reserved.
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