Bad Coffee and Uncomfortable Panties

bad coffee

The heroine in one of my favourite kid’s books was a child in the throes of a “no good, terrible bad day”. I have always loved that description. Well, today I am that child. It began with a ‘bad’ pot of coffee. How does that happen? Same amount of everything goes into the machine every morning but once in awhile, something sad and unacceptable occurs along the way, and the damn thing spits out 10 cups of ‘yucky’ instead of ‘yummy’.

While still sipping the disappointing swill, I ventured into my underwear drawer only to discover that all the ‘comfortable’ panties were in the hamper… or the washer… or the dryer. In my household the laundry cycle is ever-going and never-ending. So my choices were limited to thongs or boy-cut. Boy-cut are an unusual style that a sales woman at Victoria’s Secret assured me would be wildly comfortable. I am not sure how they feel on her, but on me they manage to simultaneously crawl up my butt and shimmy down my hips. And the dreaded thong requires no explanation – it’s like straddling a clothesline all day!

So by 10am I was both inadequately caffeinated and inappropriately clothed, leaving me sleepy and grumpy (my least favorite dwarfs). In the nearly 3 hours since, I have endured several work catastrophes, interrupted only by spam phone calls and the hysterical barking of Buster the schnauzer, who is trying to protect me from the road crew that is paving our street.

A look at my day planner tells me that the quality of this day is going no where but down.  This afternoon I have a conference call where my only contribution will be sharing bad news about project costs, project timelines, and the mental health of the project coordinator (me!).  After that I will be making dinner for my family using only canned goods and chicken strips, since I have had no time to slip in a trip to the grocery store.  And my evening includes ‘curriculum night’ at the elementary school where I will learn about Grade Five math and English outcomes for the third time (third child in Grade Five). 

I believe that the ‘no good, terrible bad day’ is simply unavoidable – like rain and taxes.   When it happens, there is nothing to do but muddle through and wait for the sweet release of bedtime.  In the muddling through, I allow myself a rant or two, like this one because frankly, a bit of ranting can be good for the soul.  I also allow myself ‘treats’, like an Oreo cookie from an unopened bag I found hiding amongst the canned goods.  Or maybe 2 cookies.  Or maybe an entire row of cookies (don’t judge me!)

Is 1:00pm too early for wine?

 

Author: kim scaravelli

Kim lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, with her long-suffering husband, an assortment of off-spring, a charming cat named Winnie, and a less charming (but oddly loveable) schnauzer named Buster.

9 thoughts

    1. Of course granny panties are comfortable! “Granny” is latin for “mature women who no longer do (or wear) anything uncomfortable, unpleasant, or unaccompanied by wine!”

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    1. OMG… thanks for clearing that up. With my youngest now 10, those books are long packed away in the attic crypt and we have been debating whether that phrase came from the book you mentioned or from a Eugenie Fernandes book called The Difficult Day…

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  1. Ha! I suggest that you start drinking now. As I do. I’ve been sulking since morning too and was only waiting for the noon to strike so that I could start drinking without being considered an alcoholic. My excuse is mourning the miscarriage of Scottish independence. And you have even more reasons!

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    1. At least you mourn news worthy international events… your should congratulate yourself on the intellectual level of your daily concerns. I’m mostly just whining about coffee, underpants and spam phone calls!

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