Pardon me while I scream wildly and run in circles

Have you ever had one of those days? You know, where the alarm goes off and you say, “Eh!” and slap it silly a few times and then suddenly (and also mysteriously) (because making connections between things like ‘hitting the snooze button eleventy-zillion times’ and ‘running late’ are too abstract for you to make on your own) you’re late getting started?

And then, every single thing you attempt to do all day long becomes an exercise in Murphy’s Law?

I started the morning by deciding that getting up in a timely fashion was somewhat optional. Which, given the knowledge I had of the Day to Come, was a tad on the silly side of me.

I knew, for example, that the Den was a screaming nightmare of disorganization; last week having been heavy on the overtime and illness, and then having been away this weekend, I was fully aware that the Den was up to the scuppers in laundry and other Denizen leavings.

I also knew that due to an extraordinary Feat of Clumsiness© which crushed a pretty hardy little plastic doohickey which feeds me a constantly updating string of characters which, in combination with my strategically-applied Secret Code provides me access to the sacred data of my client, I was going to have more difficulty than usual getting online today.

I further knew that when I walked into the kitchen, it was not going to be pretty. We got home late Sunday evening, and I walked straight past the kitchen, put the Denizens to bed and then jumped into bed myself. Didn’t even glance into the kitchen. But I knew. Oh yes. I knew I was going to be bad…

I was not disappointed in any way this morning. Laundry? GADS! Clutter? GASP! Kitchen? GAH! Logging in? GAK!

Also, the espresso machine was angry and did not wish to steam. It had abandonment issues (I was, after all, gone for forty-eight whole hours) and did not wish to make espresso. Then it sulked and refused to froth the milk.

So I had to start my morning with a call to the IT help desk armed with nothing more than a cup of coffee-scented water and lukewarm milk. FORTY MINUTES LATER, I had a temporary password.

“Oh wait,” he said, when I announced that the temp thing isn’t working. “I just noticed on the Red Board [which is apparently like some kind of big whiteboard on which they write the reasons why the world is probably ending for the saps on the other end of the line] that your entire network is actually down. You won’t be able to log in until we get that repaired. {pause} Yeah, oh christ, we’ve got eighty calls in the queue right now, oh man. Oh man. {at this point, it is sinking in to him that there are real and major problems in his world and that it is going to be a very, very long day indeed – I feel his pain} Yeah, it, this looks like it’s probably a pretty big deal…I don’t have any informa- what? What? {someone is filling him in on what has been going on back in the real world while he was helping the dufus with her token issues} Oh. OK. We have…OK, look, they’re working on the problem, but I’m afraid I don’t have an ETA right now. Both the VPN and the Outlook servers are experiencing outages this morning. Gee, I’m really sorry…”

Sorry? YOU’RE sorry? I’m sorry I ever got up this morning, honey.

But I don’t say that, because it would be demeaning to call the nice IT guy ‘honey’ and besides – however messed up MY day is? HIS is twice as bad as of right immediately now. So I confined my comments to ‘OK, I understand – good luck today.’ and ringing off.

I went and did the dishes, which believe you me was no small feat.

Then, I tried again. Nada.

Hoookay, let’s clean the kitchen and sweep the floors.

Try again. Negative on the hookin’ up with the servers thing.

Got the Scooba out and discovered that someone (*cough-husband-cough*) unplugged it but never plugged it back in so it is dead, Jim, dead.

Said a few words unbecoming a lady.

Then, I made more coffee. The coffee maker is still angry and will not froth milk. So I told it off. Reminded it that it can be replaced. Then, I noticed that someone (*cough-husband-cough*) had fiddled with the steam settings.

It doesn’t like its knobs fiddled with by anybody but me. It is a one person appliance, people. Kind of like a German Shepherd, only…well, I was going to say ‘cheaper to maintain’ but frankly I’m having to become quite stern with myself about the gourmet coffee thing because apparently, I believe that when it comes to my gourmet coffee beans, I am positively made of money.

De-fiddled the knobs, and went back into the office in a state of resigned despair to try ag- hey, it worked! I’m logged in! I’m so excited that I burn my tongue on my hot coffee! OK, let’s get the ball moving, two hours later…

“Your Outlook exchange is currently unavailable.”

Whaaaaaat?

IT help desk: “Exchange server 289672lkahjslkjh;10d8hlajzxxy is currently unavailable. Customers on this server [yes, that would be me] will not be able to access their email until further notice. Technicians are working on this problem. Please piss off and don’t bother talking to us about it.” (OK, they didn’t really say that last part. I just felt the lack of love via my psychic powers.)

I try to log into my SQL Servers. Because I remember what I was doing. I can just, uh, go do it, right?

Or not. Can’t get to the SQL Server either.

Secure connection up. Secure connection down. Up. Down. Up. Down. IM keeps logging me out. Log back in. Out. In. Out.

ARGH.

More boxes arrived. An architect arrived – believe me, there will be more on that later. And an electrician. Yes. There is a lot ‘more’ in the ‘more on that later’. And the bunk beds arrived for Danger Mouse and Boo Bug.

The bunk bed fits nicely, but I learned that my husband actually got around to bolting the dresser to the wall some time ago. This is good parent behavior! Especially for parents of Denizens, who will do things like use the dresser drawers as ladders in an attempt to reach the closet shelves!

But it means that half of the closet will remain blocked for the foreseeable future, because by ‘bolted to the wall’, he means, ‘made a permanent part of the wall’.

A thousand years from now, they will find a wall-remnant with a dresser bolted to it and wonder what it means. “Obviously, this object was either sacred or extremely valuable,” they will say. “Why else would it have been so thoroughly attached to the wall?”

He does good work, that boy.

Sometimes, a little too good. Ask me about the shelves melded to the walls in Eldest’s room sometime…