I could tell you about day 2 of our vacation, which was a trip to Disneyland. But I really need to unload about my day. May I?
This was just a crappy day. Actually, I would like to erase Tuesday from memory, proclaim Wednesday to be my new Tuesday, and make up the difference in the next leap year. While I share a lot of stuff I probably shouldn’t — let’s just say my family’s not too thrilled that I ever told the story about Uncle Drunk Malcolm — there are details of my soon-to-be-forgotten Tuesday that I simply cannot share due to the fact that I don’t want to. But I think just by sharing a couple of highlights, you’ll get the idea of just how FABULOUS my day was.
Rushing home to relieve the nanny at 2:02pm (She’s actually done at 2, but I was a couple of minutes late. I’ll make it up to her next leap year…) I opened the garage door and began to pull my car inside. Now, coming in from the bright glare of the sun into the shadows of a garage causes great visual impairment, so I didn’t see that the painter-who-showed-up-to-paint-2-bedrooms-and-a-bathroom-on-May-28-and-is-still-working-in-my-house had left a couple of cans of paint on the floor of the garage. So as I pulled in, I heard a sickening crunch. Thinking I had hit one of the painter’s tools, I put the car into reverse only to hear what sounded like a mini-explosion. I threw the car in park, ran around to see what I’d hit, and realized that I’d just run over an entire can of white paint that exploded onto my car, my garage wall, my garage floor and the Persian rug given to me as a gift by my Persian mother-in-law when I married her Persian son nine years ago but was now neatly rolled up in the corner, waiting to be hauled off for cleaning. Who cares so much about the garage floor…and at least the garage walls and my car are white…but the Persian rug? Not so much.
And I’ll just pick one more highlight from my day because I think it will suffice. Emma Kelly was practicing blowing bubbles in the bathtub because apparently that’s what her swim instructor told her to do. It’s sounded a little silly to me, but now I realize the teacher must’ve wanted my daughter to master this technique on my watch because while blowing those bubbles, EK managed to ingest enough water to cause herself to throw up in her bathwater.
And that’s all I have to say about my Tuesday that never happened.