Or maybe I should be complaining that the 11-year-old started his day out by informing me that he needed a three-ring report cover for a project that is due...tomorrow.
I could also be annoyed by the fact that the friend Zoe was supposed to play with this afternoon while I was busy drinking beer at the Twins game now has a certain digestive disturbance that may require medical treatment, but I'm sure that a five-year-old doesn't get diarrhea on purpose. And fortunately I was able to find another responsible person to hang out with my daughter while I sit in the sun and imbibe.
There was also that issue with the dress that I am having altered, and the fact that I went to pick it up (in rush hour traffic) after being assured that it was completed, only to find out that they forgot to put in a zipper. Not a dart or a hem, but an entire fucking zipper.
I should be pissed because when I thought I was being super prepared by making spaghetti sauce and putting it in a crock pot so that it would be hot when I got home from Charlie's violin lesson, I was actually being an idiot because when I got home I realized that the shit in the pot doesn't get hot unless you turn the god damn pot on.
Honestly, though, none of these things matter anymore because the project is completed, the child care is covered, the kid didn't miss the bus, the sauce turned out just fine, the dress will be done in two days, and despite the fact that I didn't have a chance to talk to Doug even one time during the day, the first words out of his mouth when he walked in the door from the office were: "Are you ready to go to the bar?"
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