Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Water log

Today has not been a good day for water. I go out to the car this morning and notice our 'up and over' garage door is open. I probably left it that way when I put my new paints away last night. I pull it shut. All the rain that had accumulated on it overnight splashes over my feet.

I go to work. I am in a place where I work on a sort of occasional freelance type arrangement and where there are full time staff. I go to the kitchen which is off the dining room to get the usual tea that we all get at a certain time because there is no opportunity for the rest of the morning. An unexpected meeting for full-timers is in progress which no one told me about. A power crazy self-appointed Queen Bee woman rudely chucks me out without apology or tea. ( But I did insist on being allowed access to the water cooler first. ) This is petty and insignificant but layered on other indignities perpetrated upon me by this person has me in tears. I lock myself in the loo, got rid of the tears then another male, full time colleague comes to be nice to me which started me off again. I pretend for the rest of the morning I have an allergy resulting in red and watery eyes.

I drive to a different city for my afternoon work. I can't find a parking space in the usual half of the carpark I use so I park elsewhere and walk across, watching carefully for merging traffic at the exit/ entry point I pass and not watching carefully for the gully where the water from the car valeting service runs. Wet feet again.

I squelch to work. I hand about being kept waiting for far too long. I eventually return to the car. Half way across the carpark without warning the heavens open. I do have an umbrella but I cannot use it because I cannot hold it, all my papers and the cone of honeycomb frozen yogurt I bought myself as a cheer up treat. Wet all over now.

I get home. My husband asks if I had a good day. He waits patiently for me to get the story out and to say, "So I am going to have a cup of tea in the bath and then I am going to play with my new paints."
"You can't," he says, turning the kitchen tap. Nothing happens. There is, apparently a burst water main and two postcode areas are without water. And because I put washing on before I left there isn't even enough in the pipes to fill a jam jar to wash my paint brushes.

It is 18.20 and there may be a postscript to this yet but I am recalling a saying from a Ricky Tims story - nothing ever happened that could not have been worse. This is true. I am neither dying of dehydration ( we have milk but not enough for a bath) and not flooded. Plus, my Janome does not run on hydro power, so excuse me if I leave you and go and retrieve this sodden / sodding day with some fabric therapy.


Quilt Pixie said...

maybe you could wring out the clothes and capture enough water for your paintbrushes :-) All kidding aside, sounds like a rotten miserable no good day. Best to leave it behind and get on with tomorrow :-)

Elaine Adair said...

Oh, poor baby!

No matter how I print that statement it comes out scarcastic -- NOT meant that way - just ... some days are like that, and I am sorry you had an icky day!

Sue B said...

Oh my gosh Helen what a day!

Laura Jane said...

That sounds like a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. You get days like that - even in Australia. (the first sentence is the title of a very good children's book).

Rats. But on the positive side - you NEVER have to have THAT day ever again!