A Series of Minor Mishaps

Do you have days like this?

Every year, TBG completes the tax planner.  I copy and mail it to the accountant. TBG's part requires preparation and much moaning.  My part involves stationary and makes me happy.

Usually.

This morning I cleaned out The UV.  I loaded the paperwork on the passenger seat, planting materials and library books on the back seats and the floor, and the pot with soil, the dolly, and my newly organized hold-all in the back.  I had my route planned out. I was ready to be productive.

Things went awry before I left my street.  Channeling my very first driving lesson with Daddooooo* I drove backwards to my driveway before I reached the stop sign - I'd forgotten my school book bag.

Boccaccio and my crocheting in hand, I started out again.   Figured out the copy machine at Kinko's.  Put papers on the front seat and in the USPS Flat Rate envelope with the address label I'd printed at home.  Drove to the post office where I deposited the envelope and went on my merry way.

It was too late to plant at Prince, so I stopped into Alan's Shoes..... and left half an hour later, with very happy feet.  Opened the hatchback to stash the bag safely in the new, neat space.... and found soil spilled everywhere.  I scooped.  I brushed.  I cursed and laughed in equal parts as I used the dolly to prop up the refilled container and pulled the door down.

Pulling down the door requires a vaguely uncomfortable reach.  I was aggravated when I got back in the car, and it only got worse.  There on the seat beside me were the original documents.  I had mailed the copies.

(Cue frantic violins and gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair.)

There were no Kinko's on my way to school.  I learned and crocheted and chatted and said goodbye to a snowbird friend and returned to my Kinko's and, once again, copied the documents.  Hoping to avoid a trip to the post office, I decided to walk across to the Pack and Ship desk and FedEx the originals (yes, I checked this time).

Didn't happen.

She wanted to scan my driver's license.  "Why?"  "It has to do with what happened in Texas.” No way that was happening, so she took the license and typed in my address, asked where it was going and frowned.  "FedEx doesn't do P.O. Boxes."

So I drove to the Post Office and remembered to bring a pen inside and I used the machine to print out another label and I checked to be sure I was sending the ones I was supposed to send and the smile on my face when I popped it through the slot surprised me.

I think I'm getting back to my old, pre-perforated, snarky self.  It was the kind of bad day a regular person has: mild aggravation over solvable problems.  I haven't had one in a very long time.

I smiled all the way home.


*For some reason, my father drove me to a dead end street and had me back upore he let me go forward. "I want you to be able to get yourself out of trouble."   At the time, I didn't think it was weird.  Not sure what I think now.