Ever had one of those days? Of course you have. One of those days where you almost hope you can be like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day and go back and start over. That's me - Today.
I'm off to Kansas City this weekend for a girls night out. Its more of a quasi bachelorette party for my sister but without the male strippers. Hopefully, there will be wine. All week the weather people have been predicting ugly weather. When does it start? Friday night. When do I leave? Saturday afternoon. Good times.
I'm also supposed to go to the dentist on Saturday. Have I mentioned that I have a deathly fear of the dentist? No? Yeah - its that bad. White face, cold sweat, swirly stomach, the whole nine yards. On the bright side (for the dentist anyway) my mouth is probably going to cost enough to send one of his kids through college. I wonder if dentures are cheaper?
How on earth does all that above tie into having one of those days? Well, let me tell you. I would normally decorate my tree this weekend. Since I'm not going to be there, I've been scrambling to get it done the last couple of days. However, every year, I have a tree disaster. There was the year I checked all my lights and they all worked so I put them on the tree. Only to find out the middle third of the tree wouldn't light up. Then the next year I got all prepared to do the tree to open the box and discover I was out of lights since I had thrown out the bastarding things the year before when they didn't work. I always seem to run one strand short too. Something that is always discovered when I'm at the bottom of the tree. Which usually involves an emergency trip to Target. At which time I always end up buying 2 sets *just to be safe* to discover I've bought a set with white wire. Getting the picture?
So, this year, in anticipation, I prepurchased 2 extra sets of lights. I double checked to make sure they were green wire. Check and Check. I was in good shape. I put all 10 strands (Yes - 10) on the tree and everything was great. Until I told Shaggy to get the garland. Ahhhhh Christmas disaster strikes. I had thrown out the garland. So, tonight on the way home, I make another emergency trip to Target to get the garland. 4 things of it. Check and Check. I get hope and start putting the garland on the tree. Yep - not enough! I restrung that damn garland 4 times hoping I could make it stretch before realizing that 4 strings of it wasn't going to cover this tree all the way round. Next plan of attack? Pushing the tree back and just doing the front, ghetto fabulous style. I get under the tree preparing to push it back and realize I've wound the extra bit of lights around the tree so tighly, I cut the cord. Dammit - Christmas disaster!
After yet ANOTHER emergency trip to Target, to purchase and extra set of lights and more garland, that part of the tree is done and I now feel like the Grinch. Fucking Christmas Tree.
However, earlier in the day, I pulled a stunt that totally demonstrates my lack of common sense. I was attempting to call Hubby (who's cell ends with 53 and mine ends with 51). As the phone was ringing, I hear my cell phone start buzzing. I manage to grab it and see that it says work. Now, you might ask - why would work be calling if I was there? Well, its kind of a running joke since our resident Sybil likes to call from our shop because, and I quote, "I'm too lazy to get up and walk over to the office". So, we do it to each other because we all find ourselves incredibily amusing. I answer my cell phone and I get nothing. I double check, yep it says work and it was definitely a call. So, there I am standing there with a phone at each ear. I also realize I never heard Hubby answer so I hang up the land line phone and I'm still trying to figure out who the heck was calling me. Slowly, it dawns on me. You dumbass, you called yourself. Yeah - I'm the blondest redhead you'll ever meet. Of course, I started laughing like a hyena which brought Satan and our secretary running to find out what was so funny. So, now everyone knows what I did and I'm pretty sure its only a matter of time before they start calling me Corky again.
Like I said, Good times, Good times!