How To Have A Bad Day

It's been a bad week. Worse than normal. Monday through Wednesday I had a personal pity party. Here's how to have a really crappy day(s):

It first starts with a Jury Summons in the mail. Good grief, that piece of paper is annoying.

You drive downtown, which is always fun. The exit you're supposed to take is under construction, so you find yourself directed onto another freeway. You say lots of prayers. Out loud. And weave around downtown until you find the Courthouse.

You notice a convenient parking lot across the street. So, you pull in to take a look.
A man knocks on your window giving you his parking pass. He's paid for the space for the entire day and he's leaving early. You count your blessings and full uber lucky to this man. You park in his spot.

Jury Evaluation takes for-ev-er. Because, it just does. And count your lucky stars, you get picked to be on the jury. Good gracious, my insides were crying when that happened. You watch all the other lucky humans leave who didn't get picked.

At the end of the long, boring day, you walk to your car.
Only to find a boot on your tire and a Warning sticker that you didn't pay for the parking spot.
Time stands still and you just have a moment. Right there in downtown Houston.

You call the Boot Company and it takes them 25 minutes to get to you.
You explain, "The space was paid for. That gentleman was being so nice. I don't understand."
Boot man is patient, even when I grab his arm and start jumping up and down with dramatics. And then he takes the time to explain why I'm naive. Super.

He then tells me that I owe $133.25 to get the Boot removed. After catching my breath, I told him he'd have to call The Husband to let him know. He declined. And also tells me I should be grateful my car didn't get towed. Awesomeness. I wonder to myself if the $6 a day jury payment will cover this enormous parking charge.

He swipes my card and I'm on my way into the rush hour traffic of Houston.
20 minutes later, each of my kids is calling me with some kind of complaint. By the time Child #2 calls because she's mad at her dad, I lose it. I start crying.
Child #2 gets all sorts of alarmed and can't figure out how to get me to stop. She finally tells me that I probably just need to go to bed.
Amen.

Dinner and chocolate calmed me down some.
Just slightly.
Because I still had to go back for the next 2 days. It was grueling.
But this time, I made The Husband drive me. My parking days are over.