Started out the morning with a throbbing headache and flu-like symptoms for
the third day in a row, brought on by a voodoo treatment from my natureopathic
doctor designed to relieve my reflux. Which it did. But I apparently traded
reflux for the flu. Huh? The doc claimed it was a detox of my system. Huh? Who
asked for a detox? I just wanted relief from reflux.
Next, I accidentally sent an e-chat from scrabble to the wrong person – in fact, to the one I was making an unkind comment about, for no other reason than I was feeling arrogant and superior at the 106 point word I’d made. But I MEANT to send the note to my OTHER scrabble friend. Sigh. So after getting over the sick feeling in my stomach – added to the throbbing headache, runny nose and sore throat induced by the aforesaid voodoo treatment – I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and do an errand. After all, nobody, not even me, is perfect.
Went to Target to buy a new microwave because the old one died – “old”
meaning 4 months – it’ll cost more to have it fixed than the original price.
Bought the new oven, bigger than I wanted, but that was all that was available,
don’t ya know, and from sick-bed-to-Target was all I was up for. Shoulda ordered
one online, but having company on Monday and need the damn thing NOW.
Anyway, waited 10 minutes for someone to help me out to the car with it and as
he lifted it out of the basket, we heard loud tinkling. Not a good sign. He
opened the box and the whole front door glass was smashed. So we went back into
the store to start over.
Finally got home, frustrated and tired out from my sick-bed-to-Target venture ( I KNEW I should not have gone out, but whaddya gonna do). Message on phone from art gallery where I’m to exhibit next week said: Can’t hang your picture, wrong kind of hanger, fix it now or we won’t hang it. So I had to go over there right away. Sick-bed-to-Target-to-art gallery. Needless to say, sick as a dog, I was not very diplomatic when I told the woman that no one had bothered to tell me I had to have a special hanger and why the heck couldn’t she have offered to help me instead of giving me ultimatums. This was met with total silence and I felt satisfaction, sad to say. Nobody gets past this mouth when the world is caving in around me.
Do I need to repeat that I did not have a good day today? I don’t know what you do with your bad days, but I’m going back to bed. I’d rather drink alcohol and drown my misery in a fog, but that would give me a reflux event and bring this story full circle.
