After a lovely Thanksgiving, the weekend slid straight downhill and over a cliff. I didn’t start this blog to create an internet library of my general whininess, so I’ll try to leave the details out. (Suffice to say, I was right and HE was wrong. And that’s the last I’ll say about that!)
The low point of the weekend? There were so many, piled one atop the other, that it’s hard to choose. Perhaps it was the silverware drawer that broke for the fifth time, leaving me to wash and re-wash the two spoons I’d left out on the counter? Or maybe it was the garage door that broke again, meaning the door couldn’t be shut, and once forced shut, it couldn’t be opened. It could have been the kitchen table that lost a leg while being moved. Then again, it might have been that moment just before bedtime on Sunday, when all of my reserves of patience had been long since used, and Shay came downstairs to announce that “somebody” had pulled his bedroom door shut, and it was locked and by the way, the key hanging next to the door? Not the right key.
And those are just the moments I care to post for all the world to see (all 15 of you, anyway). I confess I’m still exhausted and cranky. I spent the whole day at work smiling as broadly as possible, figuring I might convince myself eventually. And do you know? It actually sort of worked.
When I arrived home this evening, I discovered that someone from the clubhouse had come and fixed the drawer. Someone from the Embassy came and dismantled the locked bedroom door, removing the frame to access the lock (supposedly someone else will come fix the damage tomorrow). The kitchen table is still on its side in the garage, which coincidentally is still impossible to access. But things are looking up.