Sometimes, you get a day from hell. Sometimes, it’s a week and, if you’re really unfortunate, longer than that. Days when everything seems to go wrong, all your efforts are thwarted and frustrated, and every bit of good news is swamped by a relentless stream of guano until you think your head is going to explode.
My week from hell began
last week a couple of weeks* ago on Monday when, whilst clearing space for DD’s new bed in her room, I was almost swept away by a massive (and I do mean massive) pile of sweet wrappers hidden in the corner. She had clearly been “posting” them there over a lengthy period (or at least I sincerely hope it was a lengthy period) in order to hide the evidence of her contraband. I’ll spare you a photo. Exhausted from lugging her new bed back and into the house, dismantling and carting out the old bed and tidying up (I must have easily done a hundred trips up and down the stairs. Hot, sticky and utterly dismayed by the wrapper spectacle, it was all I could do to stop my head exploding. The vacuum cleaner was less resilient and gave up in the face of it all by turning itself off and refusing to have anything to do with the business for an hour. Not a great start to the week, particularly in light of DD’s scant appreciation of my efforts, not to mention the persistent getting underfoot to “help” put the bed together. No work done.
*It’s been a hectic couple of weeks with one thing and another so this post took rather longer to get out than anticipated