Which, as I think about it, would be a great title for a book. Not what this post is about.
So, today is day seven in a row working at my day job which, it turns out, is a couple days too many. I picked up a shift to cover for a sick employee, but by now, my body is reminding me that I am not as young as I used to be.
As of yesterday, I had to wrap my bum ankle for the first time in a year. I also came home from work after getting a few junk food groceries (totally broke the diet, but after I ate some, I gave the rest away, so back on the wagon I go), I came home and fell asleep on my bed -- still in my work clothes. By 8:30 at night. Not my usual M.O.
I also found out yesterday that the fixed plumbing issue at my house is not so fixed. Bah.
And then there was this morning's coffee fail. On my way to my morning swim/yoga sanity break, I stopped at the Timmie's nearest my house. I swear they must have changed suppliers for their cups, because as I lifted mine from the cup holder for my first sip, the heat completely collapsed the cup. Lid wooshed off, coffee sloshed everywhere. I mean, half a cup of boiling hot coffee sluiced all over my brand new (one week today) car.
I was pissed. Say what you will about first world problems, this was not okay. So, I went inside and told them the cup had exploded and I would need napkins. They had no other customers inside, but the woman listened, then left me standing there and went back to take a drive thru order. Another woman put a small stack of napkins on a counter I couldn't reach -- waiting for the original woman to hand them to me. She didn't. Just left me standing there. BAD Timmies.
I said, "I am going to need more than that. The coffee is everywhere."
No one said anything, and one man walked away. He came back holding a couple cloths which the woman then handed me. No apology, no offer to replace the coffee I was now wearing. I thanked them, took cloths and napkins to my car, threw out the remaining coffee and scrubbed poor Baby Car clean.
Then I drove to Starbucks. I work for them. I figure, they will take care of me. But no. I order my coffee, the associate is friendly and asks which store I work for. I receive my staff discount. Drive away. Take a sip.
My coffee is barely lukewarm.
It's Starbucks. I know I could go in and they will make it right. But, then I will have to get out of the car and wait for a fresh pot to brew, all of which cuts into my swimming time. Not to mention, I work in a few hours so I can get my own damn coffee later -- and it will be free.
I drive across the street to the good Timmies. Over the intercom I order my coffee and say, "Can I please get it double cupped. I was just at the other store and my coffee exploded all over me." The man says of course and ushers me forward.
My favourite Timmies employee looks out at me with a smile and hands me a coffee. When I start to hand over my toonie, she waves me away. Ahhhh. Yes, good Timmies, I will be back.
So, her kindness helps offset my mood. Still, by the time I get to the beach, I can't focus on yoga, no longer want to swim. I'd read, this morning, that several friends of mine have been evacuated from their homes due to a forest fire. I've already wished one well. I am worried for them, but there is also a knowledge that in the Okanagan in August, it could be me next. Nowhere is safe from fire season. I am reminded that hers is a lot worse morning than mine. The reminder does not completely remove my coffee irritation. Probably because the shorts I am wearing are soaked with the stuff, and the smell has permeated my leg.
So, while sitting on my yoga mat, I pull out a pen and start jotting down a budget that factors in the unforeseen plumbing expenses which, apparently, are in my near future. Sigh. I maybe do a twist or two, but that is as far as I get.
Once I've jotted down some figures and realize that as much as it sucks to spend it this way, I do have the money for a plumber, I just sit there and try to let the sun on my shoulders, the lakeview in front of me, the grass fanning my toes quiet my mind. I get most of the way there. Enough so that when the little pull-up clad toddler and his grandma walk into my path, I notice how cute he is, studiously playing with her cell phone.
"You have the next Bill Gates there," I say to her with a smile.
"Oh, it's amazing how quickly they start with technology," she agrees. And then her grandson diverts, and heads my way.
First, he hands me her cell phone.
"Well, thank you," I say. "I like you."
I hand it back to him while his grandmother laughs. Then he turns around, sort of backs up, and plops his lake-water-soaked pull up against my lap. When he sits and slides himself back until he is leaning into me, I grin, and stroke a hand over his blond baby fuzz head.
His name, it turns out, is Theo, and when his chubby baby fingers tried to steal my cell, he completely turned around my day. Just when I really needed it.