This day could ONLY have been made more challenging if you had magically added 8 pounds to my forehead. Although, there is the business of that thing under my middle toe, so I get that you are attacking me with abnormal growths. And for the record, I am not. a. fan.
Let's start with the massive thunderstorm that rolled in around midnight last night. Because there is nothing that spells massive-cluster like having to wake your four comatose children from their REM sleep cycle. Under the threat of death that comes with 1 or 3 or 12 possible tornadoes heading your way. Fan. tastic.
Now. It is NO surprise that the power went out as soon as it started to rain. This happens frequently, because apparently, someone made our power lines out of dental floss. We have this quaint little street of 20 or 25 houses on it, flanked by a golf course on one side, and this means we are SCREWED during power outages, because there are easily hundreds of neighborhoods with higher demands for electricity. The entire city of St. Louis and the remotest portions of the African plains receive power before we can even dream of seeing an electric company truck.
The silver lining here is that once everyone was back in bed, it was past midnight, and I was tired. Because here is a widely known fact: I have an unhealthy reliance upon Chelsea Lately/E! News, and I cannot fall asleep without knowing, in GREAT detail, how Lindsey Lohan or Charlie Sheen has decided to crap on their careers and overall mental health in the preceding 24-hour period. These matters are of great importance to me. But I did manage to get on with it and fall asleep, which is a small miracle.
And then Monday, we met again.
7:24 a.m.--Power STILL out. Even though the rest of the world has access to facebook, and this leads me to feelings of great oppression. I imagine this is what prison feels like.
8:20 a.m.--Upon dropping the kids off at school, I learn very few people ever lost power. Super.
8:27 a.m.--I play Words with Friends on my iphone in my car. My life is very, very sad.
From there, the day seems to be going along okay, and I am adjusting to eating solely out of my pantry, which means my nutritional content equates to goldfish crackers, potato chips and chocolate almonds. I am coming dangerously close to my dream of forehead obesity after all.
I pick the kids up from school. I manage lunch. I am beginning to think that I would win a season of Survivor.
And then some child decides to poop on the potty, where I am reminded that our plumbing is the size of a straw, apparently, because it up and clogs itself daily. Which prompts me to write the following letter:
To Whomever created our toilet or our sewer line or plumbing in general,
I want to kill you. You are ruining my life.
At this point, I have a plan for getting the kids out of the house, which is beginning to feel *slightly* arctic, but everything is closed because Monday is a gigantic bitch. Alrighty then, we head to the library. Even though we were there on Friday. Also important to note: I have a mental issue with repeating the same activities too close together. This also applies to meals. Monday/ Satan--you are attacking me where it hurts, with the breaking of my most ridiculous life rules.
What's next? Is monogramming going to become ILLEGAL? What about polka dots while your trying to destroy me??????????
4:00 p.m.--Back at home, where it is apparent that the power will not be on until the summer, or possibly sometime after my grandchildren are born. We make plans to head to my in-laws for the night, which means I need to pack clothes. Which can be found in our window-less pit of a basement. And, OH! lucky day. It appears that we are completely out of clean socks. Probably. I couldn't see any, at the very least, and it had been...2 or maybe 18 days since I remembered washing any.
Nothing says "I have hit the low point of my entire life" like mounting a laundry pile by candle light and attempting to identify socks by feel and smell.
At some point (who knows when, this day already feels like it is 96 years long), Mike arrives home and we begin the process of emptying the refrigerators into coolers. Which is when we come across this little gem:
Horseradish. Expired two years before we even moved into this house, 7.5 years ago.
Are you understanding that I have now packed up my children, 9 years worth of groceries AND inappropriately assaulted a laundry pile for 2 loads of dirty socks?
Because this is the point at which I learn the power will be back on in 45 minutes.
Monday. This is me giving you the finger.