It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Yesterday was not a bad day.

In fact, someone signed the lease on our house and put down the deposit. We have a renter for the next 12 months, guaranteed. Had coffee with Geraldine while Michael was still in childcare. I even finished making the favor bags for Sunday's birthday bash--little brown bags with puppy faces.

Dom and I decided some celebrating was in order. We hopped in the car down to Chili's for some good eats. After all that hard work of prepping for the party and costume sewing, I was ready for big ole plate of honey BBQ flavored chicken crispers. So crispy and tastey, that therein lies the first of many unfortunate happenings.

As I'm taking a gigantic bite, the crispness of the chicken's outer layer shot a teaspoon of honey barbeque burn right into my eye. I don't know how many of you have tried to eat sauce through your eye before, but the horrible stinging and shock of what the fuck just happened renders your speech uncomprehendable. While making stiff sweeps across the table like a rusty robot, I found a napkin and garbled, "Eye. It's sauce. Ah."

Today was a bad day.

I woke up with the ick that Michael's been spreading all over the house with his germy little hands. And I was going to inquire about the flu shot on Monday. I still managed to drag my body, which feels like it's rotting from the inside out, all over the house to get ready for Yoga class because I was supposed to meet Geraldine at 9. Too bad I didn't check the email that said she wasn't going before I left. I figured she was just running late, so I waited for about 15 minutes past before giving up and taking a shower. I had even shown up 15 minutes early because I had to stop and get more pedialyte for Michael Poopypants.

Now at home, I spend about an hour on the phone with my insurance provider trying to get Michael's card mailed out to us and change my doctor...blah, blah, blaaaahhh. I finally lay down for a glorious nap while Michael's still sleeping....only he's no longer sleeping. Fuck me.

I get him to the doctor's office and filled out my clipboard of family diseases while chasing him out of the bathroom and off of people's laps. It was a great time for all of us. *gag*

Ready for the shittiest part of my shitty, shitty, shit-filled day? I walk in to the living room and see the massacred remains of my cute, puppy favor bags lying mutilated on the floor. Blog damnit.