when you run out of coffee

August 17, 2010.
Well, I'm pretty sure it wasn't the worst.
But when you're having a bad day,
things are magnified to the n-th degree.
Has it ever happened to you?

We had run out of coffee the day before.
So I awoke just sensing it was going to be a bad day.
And I know exactly what you're thinking:
"You know, Michelle, perspective is everything.
You think positive, and it will be positive."
Yeah.
I know.
But let me have my pity party.
Ok?

So, where was I?
Oh, yeah.
NO coffee.

After sulking in my coffee-less morning,
I decided to have some breakfast.
At least I can fill the void in my belly.

I empty out a box of Life cereal into my bowl.
Travel to the fridge.
And attempt to pour milk all over the crunchy-sweetness to the exact level.
Where it can add the perfect amount of wetness to allow the top to stay dry.
Hence, the crunchy-ness.
The problem?
It was half-n-half.
For the coffee I didn't have.
Subconscious? Like some sort of physical Freudian-slip?
Probably.
The result?
Crunchy-anti-coffee-creamy-sweetness.
yuck.

I attempt to put the milk...uhh, the half-n-half, back into the fridge.
A dozen eggs fall to my feet.
splat.
yuck. 

Have you ever tried cleaning up a dozen eggs from your feet and floor?
yuck.

I decide to cheer myself up with some social time.
FaceBook.
fail.
Internet connection down.
The reason for my absent-ness.

Check the phone for dial-tone.
fail.

Call my mom on my cell.
End up crying. 
For too many reasons to tell.
Have you ever unloaded on your mom?
Like everything you're going through that's hard?
Besides telling her you wasted the last of your cereal with half-n-half?
Or the crashing of the eggs?
And you cry like you did the time you fell off your bike?
When you scraped your knees so bad?
And
you
can't
seem
to
catch
your
breath
in
between
the
sobs?
And you still have the scars to prove it?

2 PM.
Realized I hadn't eaten lunch.
Made a PB&J sandwich.
I decided to cheer myself up by using chunky PB.
My favorite.
Realized the chunky PB had gone bad.
After I had eaten the sandwich.
Can PB go bad?
My stomach churned for about 1 hour.

I decide to cheer myself up and scrapbook some cute baby pictures.
I blissfully loose track of time.
My cute baby wakes up from her nap.
At 4:45PM.
fail.
It's too late to cook the extra-meaty roaster chicken.
It requires 2-1/2 hours to bake.
Because of it's dreamy meaty-ness.

Insert: daydream of me sipping a White Chocolate Mocha in the Starbucks lounge while reading a book.

I decide to cheer myself up by getting ready for my friend, Jessica's, Lia Sophia party.
I've been to them before and have a pretty collection of Lia Sophia jewelry.
I put on a few of my pieces.
I feel special.
7 PM.
Time for the party!  Whoo hoo!
I walk into my friend's house.
And quickly realize,
the party is not today.
Today is Tuesday.
The party is Thursday.
And then I quickly realize,
Jessica was napping.
And I just woke her up.
Jessica is 8 months preggo.
Mike told me later,
"That's 5 extra years of purgatory, you know?"
We don't believe in purgatory,
but I'm pretty sure I'm going there.
I woke up a napping a pregnant lady.

1:30AM
MIGRAINE.
All because I had run out of coffee.

A picture of the cute baby.
The baby that was so good
on the worst day in history.
All she did was smile
and laugh
and giggle
and make spit bubbles
while I cried.
Thank you, Lord,
for the sweet little blessing
of my Annaleigh.
Oh!
And eating Oreo ice cream
from Mannings
while watching Wipeout
with my hunky hubby
were another spectacular part
of the worst day in history.
I will praise You, Lord, in the storm.