First, I squish my finger so badly at work that I have to show it to the nurse the following day. It's not broken, but it's not comfy, either. Tylenol and some tape seem to work wonders for the time being.
Then, my washing machine decides to start being temperamental. Sometimes it starts the spin cycle on its own, and sometimes it needs a little help with the dial movement. A new washer (and probably a dryer) are somewhere in my future, I'm sure. It's okay; I'm long overdue. I'd just prefer it hold out just a tad bit longer as I am already mentally and physically overextended.
Oh, and financially overextended, too.
For some strange reason, I decide it's a good idea to pay one education loan, oh, and why don't I just make the last payment on this other one over here because it's only $600, and maybe I'll pay off a credit card or two before summer starts. This is all fine and well except that about a year ago I started having panic attacks over my cyber-shopping and cyber-banking. All of a sudden there are card skimmers everywhere around where I live and shop. Plus, I know the dangers of shopping online, regardless of how well-protected the companies claim to be. There's always a big-ass breach somewhere along the line, so I transferred money out of my checking account and into a savings account, instead. I keep my checking account balance pretty low to pay for bills and other expenses.
This month, after having the brainstorm to pay all the bills and pay some of the loans and cards either down or off, I made one slight miscalculation in my finances. Okay, let's be honest: I frikkin' spaced out and forgot to do the transfer of funds. Yup, I have that "Aw, SHIT" moment at the Stop and Shop check-out line when my card goes belly-up. Luckily, I am also into paying cash a lot more, so I have some cash on me, run the groceries home, then fly up to the bank to correct the error of my ways and beg for mercy. I haven't overdrawn my account for over twenty years, so I am totally freaked out by this.
The bank teller is terrific and refunds the fees into my account. "We can link your checking to your savings, if you want..." he says, trying to sell me a deal. NO! I have the accounts separated for a reason. I'm already paranoid about cyber-siphoning!
I'm also overextended at work. A little project we are starting in September suddenly needs to be implemented RIGHT NOW, perhaps even yesterday or last month. This means that I have to rework plans (I have very few teaching days left as it is) and work with a document that hasn't been properly proofed. Of course, the kiddos find typos and all. If only they'd proofread it originally instead of me, we might have a workable product.
On top of that, data has to be collected, and data has to be recorded, and data has to be uploaded to the proper documents in Google drive, and data has to be spit back at the kiddos so they know how the data supports their term-end grades.
Meanwhile, the landlord decides it's time to power-wash the house. This means that the brand new air conditioners I bought and installed now have to be uninstalled for a day or two. Terrific. And it's hot. And I'm antsy. I go two days without the air conditioners in the windows, but finally they're back in. (Bless you, my child, for helping me put them back into the windows. My sweaty armpits, etc., thank you.)
My car is acting a little hinky, as well. It's nothing it doesn't usually do, I suppose, but now that I drive a lot with the windows open, it just seems to sound hinkier than its usual hinky self. The very last thing I want to be doing right now is car-shopping. I mean, I might be washer-dryer shopping in a few weeks. One mechanical tragedy at a time, if you please.
In the midst of entering grades and test data, the Internet goes on the fritz. No phone; no Edline. Pissah. I call the company from my cell phone and immediately go to Comcast Hell. I am thrilled when I get someone who speaks English and sounds American, but not because I am prejudiced; it's because I don't know any technical terms, so I really need someone who understands me and whom I can totally understand.
"Look on the back at the teeny tiny little number that's on the teeny tiny little sticker that's all covered with wires," he tells me. I find the number after I sit back about four feet so my bad eyes can adjust to my bad glasses. I tell the technician what is wrong, and he says, "Have you plugged in your laptop to the modem?" Um .... NO because it's wireLESS. If I plug it in, I'm WIRED." Just tell me which button on this brand new modem is the fucking RESET, will ya? Nope, he won't.
In the midst of me insisting that I do NOT understand what he is telling me to do ("Plug in ... no, take apart ... change the filter .... Put your left foot in ... take your right foot out ... stick your booty in and shake it all about ..."), my son arrives home to rescue me and the technician from an aggravating phone call. My son tries to explain the problem (that he just walked into) while I'm behind him mumbling, "I will pack this shit right up and send it right back there and shove it up someone's--"
After having the company reset the modem (which I'm sure I could do if they'd tell where the FUCKING BUTTON is), the Internet comes back up, and all is right with the world. I finish entering all the data into the shared document, double-check my final grades, and call it an afternoon/evening. I get the last of this paperwork completed while my son, the new hero, goes to get his hair cut. When he comes back, he is hoping for dinner.
Thank goodness it's Friday. I need this week to be OVER before I really hurt myself or cause permanent damage to the universe.
