On Sunday, as I sunk into my sofa to enjoy two hours of Downton Abbey, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I’d blogged twice, I’d made dinner and cookies, Lucy was fed, bags were packed and ready for work, laundry was done … you get the jist.
Then Monday came.
And it was not what I expected. Roofers arrived bright and early with a dumpster the size of China, which they thoughtfully placed across my garage and right next to my front door, in front of which they positioned their ladder, and power cords running to the roof.
The man’s truck, which has been inoperable for a few weeks (I was waiting for the man to come home, because who could have anticipated telepathically that my whole world and apartment would be turned upside down?) had to be moved, as did the Mini. Lucy and I, after realizing what a huge inconvenience it all was, packed our bags and headed south to stay with my parents.
My anger has not get dissipated at what I consider to be a highly inconsiderate occurence.
Yesterday, after getting Lucy settled with my dad (it took all of zero seconds, because Dad loves Lucy and Lucy loves my Dad), I headed downtown. I thought it odd that there was a line out the door of the tiny cupcake bakery I walk past every day on my way to work. Normally, it looks empty, and the counter worker slightly forlorn and deflated.
What was causing this mad rush for cupcakes, I wondered? Was someone trying to boost her spirits?
Upon arriving at work, I noticed that the office manager had flowers on her desk. Was it her birthday? I knew she had recently lost a family member. But pink roses? Odd.
Since I was running really behind, I threw my bag down, and started doing about nine things at once. I felt a little flustered and just wanted to get things in order.
My office mate (he of the cookie requests) poked his head in the door and smiled a big smile.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Ah! It all came together … cupcakes, pink roses … a lot of people wearing red and pink.
So I’m a day late today, but to those who celebrate, Happy Valentine’s Day!
This morning, I arrived at work much less flustered (no line at the cupcake shop ~ all felt much more normal!) but anxious to register for my first ever race. And after two hours and 45 minutes, multiple windows, several failed attempts, and one successful one (by Minda’s hubby, not by me), I am officially registered to run Broad Street 2012. I’m excited and terrified. And as Josh pointed out, it took longer to register than they allow you to finish the 10 miler (you’re capped at 2 hours and 30 minutes by the police, emergency services, etc etc, so that roads can be re-opened in a timely fashion). The pressure is on.
Wish me luck!