Yesterday was the kind of day that doesn’t go at all like you expect it to, all day long. As to how it was, well, here’s a bit of a rundown:
1)A lovely woman in my neighborhood stopped by with dinner for us in the morning. Her son had had shingles at 19, and apparently his misery was memorable. This is a common thread, by the way; fellow sufferers–or, in more than one case, immediate relatives of fellow sufferers–are very, very sympathetic.
2)My hubby took the littles to the park while my oldest was at dance; he dropped my middle off unexpectedly right as dance was ending, because she had had a bit of an accident. When she got on the potty, it became apparent that she’d done well only having a bit of one; within 10 minutes, she’d been on the potty again and thrown up on the bathmat.
3)It was a tad chaotic cleaning her up and getting her taken care of while also getting her older sister into bed for school the next morning. I was settling the oldest, the middle was on the potty, and Daddy and the boy were hanging out when there was a knock at the door. A family has just moved into our neighborhood from a homeless shelter, starting from scratch; the Young Women leaders in our ward were out with some of the young women (ages 12-18) asking the rest of the neighborhood if they had anything to spare for them. We scrounged what we could, got the middle squared away in a temporary bed upstairs, and got the boy down (half an hour late). I also put the bathmat and some towels into the washing machine. With bleach.
4)I went to switch the wash after the boy was done, and lo and behold! the washing machine had stopped mid-cycle. It wouldn’t drain. It still agitates, but it’s also still full of the dirty/bleachy/vomit-y water. (Ewww!) My hubby dredged the towels up and I carried them to the downstairs bathtub, where they sat until this afternoon. (I squeezed the water out as best I could and my neighbors ran them through their washer and dryer. Bless them.)
5)I sat at the computer to zone before bed and hey, my mouse was on the fritz again. (This happens sometimes.) At that point I was kind of afraid to touch anything else.
At first all I could think about was what a HORRIBLE evening it had been–and then I stopped. Shouldn’t knowing that somewhere nearby was a family starting with NOTHING make me grateful that I’m ONLY out a washing machine for a few days, until we can get it fixed or replace it? Shouldn’t I be grateful that we were able to take care of our kids, sick and well alike, with only a bit of rushing around? Shouldn’t I be grateful for a hubby who fixed the mouse, and good neighbors?
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m constantly seeing more items that need washing, because that’s what you notice when you can’t do anything about it. And yes, it’s driving me crazy. We are, however, so very blessed.
And I am grateful for it.