It’s Just a Bad Day

There is an extraordinary children’s book titled, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.  If you that have children anywhere from 5 to 35 you are likely familiar with this classic story. Alexander has all kinds of things go wrong such as having to wear his railroad train pajamas. Readers quickly realize that Alexander’s stressors are not so horrible when considered individually, it is in their culmination that they mount up and make him want to move to Australia.

The photo albums of my relatives and my childhood are priceless to me.

  Today was one of those days. I confirmed that a close relative committed a lie of omission regarding the family photo albums. It really bummed me out because I can’t for the life of me figure out any reasoning behind this hurtful act. That was the catalyst.

  I had several errands and appointments to take care of which started with the doctor. He gave me a good report, well kind of, but suggested a five day script and said if it didn’t help that I should see and orthopedic. Yeah, kind of passive aggressive good news.

  As I went to my next stop my mind wandered to several people that I love that are dealing with some really serious stuff. Granted, their stuff is the kind of stuff that I can’t do anything about or help them find solutions, but that is frustrating. I have always been a helper/fixer and it is tough when I know that people I love are struggling and there is nothing I can do beyond listening.

  The next stop was at Lowe’s. In November I had purchased a battery powered blower and weed clipper. They were used only a few times since winter was coming on but I liked both of them and it was super convenient that they both used identical batteries allowing me to have one battery charging while I used the other.  Now it is early June and one of the batteries will no longer take a charge. GRRR! The customer service rep told me that they couldn’t replace the battery but if I brought in either the blower or trimmer I could get a whole new unit. Cool beans, even it is meant going back with the blower.

  A few hours later I went back and a different rep informed me that they could not exchange the blower as I had been told because the model had been discontinued. I wasn’t happy but I was kind and polite as I explained that I had now made two trips into the store with no results. In the end I walked out with a battery for the blower which was what I had hoped for when I first went in. That is the highlight of the day thus far.

  I am in need of some traps for wood bees as they are buzzing around my deck.  It seems that no one has informed the wood bees that they are not supposed to enjoy boring holes into pressure treated lumber. I had arranged through Facebook Marketplace to meet up with a local guy that makes and sells the traps.  I had about 40 minutes to spare and decided I would go by my gym and use the time for my weekly dose of carcinogens by spending 15 minutes in the tanning bed. No problems there other than I would have to come back for my workout after the purchase of the bee traps.

The sound of metal crunching into metal was sickening.

  As I waited in the turn lane to leave the highway and enter the Walmart parking lot I was suddenly jolted forward and heard the sickening sound of vehicle crunching. The lady behind me had just hit me.  I put my SUV into park and got out. She inspected her bumper and informed me it wasn’t hurt (I resisted saying, yeah so…) I was pleasantly surprised to see that my SUV had only a small dent and a scratch in the bumper. She did not apologize or ask if I was ok.  I suggested that we go ahead and pull into the parking lot and that I would call for a police report. She was quite indignant and spoke as if I were evil. “You are going to report that little scratch?” I informed her it was a dent and that I wanted a police report. I also walked behind her truck and snapped a photo of her license plate figuring with her attitude that she might very well drive off.

  Once in the parking lot she proceeded to tell me about the times that her vehicle had been hit and yet she had not made the person pay or get an accident report. When that didn’t work she told me that she had lived a hard life. I tried to be compassionate but I didn’t waiver from wanting the police report and I didn’t tell her but I was realizing my back was hurting a little.

  As the police officer was giving us both back our licenses and proof of insurance another car pulled in and she announced it was her son. A large angry man got out and proceeded to look at my dent. He started to rant but I decided that Mr. Policeman could deal with him and I left.  I was able to finish the bee trap mission since while I waited for the police I called the bee trap craftsman who agreed to drive over and sell me a trap.

  I am home and I have no intention of going back out today.  I think my back will be fine in the morning and my dog was as happy as ever to see me return.  It is not just 5 o’clock somewhere, it is 5:25 p.m. right here and I am having a glass of wine as I remind myself that it isn’t a bad life, it’s just a bad day and those happen (even in Australia). Perhaps I should rethink Australia as a travel destination.  It is a crazy long flight but it is a long way from here and today that sounds good. It was just a bad day, it isn’t a bad life.

Wishing all of you a Good Day and a Good Life!

Thanks to the following for use of their photos; Keith Zhu, Serge Esteve, Laura Fuhurman, Daniel Watson and Benny Jackson

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