I have been in a foul mood most of the day. This is probably because of how my morning started.
I got up a bit later than I intended to, so I had to rush just a little to get out the door around my normal time. Nothing too hurried, but I really had very little time to spare. I wanted to get to work early because I have a mountain of paperwork that needs to be done as soon as possible, and it’s so hard to find time during the day to do it. After school is usually a write-off too, as it appears that I have become the Mother Confessor of my workplace, and people are CONSTANTLY coming into my room after the kids have gone to ask my opinion on some kid or some situation, or to solicit my advice on some personal issue, or even just to tell me about their sex life (no, I’m not exaggerating. I wish I was, but this time I’m not.) And I really don’t want to stay at work till 5 or 6 o’clock every night just to do lousy paperwork! I mean, I do have other things to do sometimes. Not many, but there are a few. (I have a life occasionally. Only occasionally.)
So, this morning as I was at the garage door gathering my stuff (school bag, gym bag, lunch bag, keys), I realized that I’d forgotten to put a fork into my lunch bag for my food. We have a shortage of forks at school, so I usually just bring my own. I went back upstairs to snatch a fork from the drawer. I came back down to the garage door and popped it into my lunch bag.
Then it dawned on me that I had left my travel cup at school the day before. I often bring a travel mug to work full of skim milk for my coffee. As you may or may not know, I am rather fond of café au lait. So, rather than monopolize the 1% milk we have at school, when I think of it, I try to bring my own skim from home so that I can load up my cup to my heart’s content. I figure I’m getting a little nutrition with a little caffeine that way. A win-win situation, to my mind.
Anyway, no travel mug. So I bounded back up the stairs, lunch bag in hand for some reason, to grab a different travel mug to load up with skim. I poured in the milk, slapped the lid on and tucked the mug into the water bottle pocket on the outside of my lunch bag and started back downstairs. Again. Third time.
Of course, I was carrying my lunch bag by its strap. Of course, halfway down the stairs, it tipped slightly and the travel mug fell out. Of course, it hit the laminate wood stairs and the lid came off. Of course, there was milk EVERYWHERE!
“SHIT!” I cried in horror. I think I yelled it three or four times. Yes, I am that classy that early in the morning.
And of course I had to clean it up right then and there, because I didn’t want the liquid to damage the laminate and also because when milk sits for a while, it does tend to sour and then it reeks mightily. I even got out my Wet Jet Swiffer to clean those damn stairs a second time after I mopped up the spill and dried the stairs – and walls too, actually.
In addition, you’ve got to expect that I would walk in the spilt milk – in my socks. And kneel down in it – in my corduroy jeans.