Oh, The Day I Had

Have you ever had one of those days? Yeah, me, too. Friday.

First of all work was crazy. Our computers were down for a while so we had to do everything by hand. Then from probably 2:00 on it was nonstop customers, which normally would be good because the time passes quickly when you’re busy. But this wasn’t an ordinary day.

Late afternoon my manager is back with us and she asks me if I got her email. She tells me someone from home called and needed me to call home. She’s pretty sure it’s my mom and not my daughter. A few minutes later someone else comes back and tells me my mom is on the phone. Oh boy!  This can’t be good.

Turns out my dog broke through the screen door to get to her humans who were out in the garage carrying things out and clearing a path for new floor supplies. The garage door was open and she ended up running into our very busy street and getting hit.

She’s fine. No injuries whatsoever. But the people who hit her were concerned about internal injuries and urged my mom to take her to a vet to get checked out. This was why she was calling.

God love her; I’m sure it was traumatic for my mother. But when she called the second time and got through I got: I called you earlier and they said you were with a customer. It’s been eighteen minutes and I can’t believe you’re still with the same customer.

Eighteen minutes, folks! Eighteen minutes.

Um, actually, Mom, I’m with a customer now. It’s been extremely busy and I haven’t had a break between customers. It’s Friday and I work at a bank. It’s payday, y’all!

We discuss the dog and I tell her to go ahead and take her in to a vet’s office.

Next thing I know I have a co-worker coming back to where I am to tell me my mom is up front. Oh dear Jesus! What’s wrong? What’s happening? I don’t even remember why she stopped in. Something about the vet, I’m sure. I just remember her telling me she figured it would be quicker to stop in because she had called and they asked her if she could hold and when she said yes they put her on hold for four minutes! Four minutes!

Again, I’m sure this was traumatic for my mom and I’m very grateful she was willing to drive my dog in hopes of finding a vet to look at her.

I was supposed to meet up with my best friend for dinner to celebrate her birthday. Instead I’m speeding off to meet my mom and dog at the vet’s office. Turns out they couldn’t get her in. She was up and walking around, didn’t seem fazed at all about what had happened so we just decided to wait and see. Spoiler alert: She is fine.

I go meet my friend for dinner and about an hour and half into it I get a message that my son has clogged up the toilet again. Now, Picasso can be a charming boy but he is frequently constipated and ends up pooping what looks like porn star penises into the toilet. Do not ask me how I know this but these porn logs are also as hard as a rock.

A little while later I get another text: Forget the pill box. The toilet has overflowed and it’s running into the utility room.

Not long after that I’m told that the mess has spread into the downstairs bathroom and the ceiling is caving in.

Wonderful!

So I hightail it home, get Picasso busy cleaning up more of the mess, throw towels into the washing machine and wipe down the bathroom floor by hand with bleach water.

That was my day from hell and the start of my weekend. How was yours?

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