And the Beat Goes On

Why is it that I can never really have a boring, uneventful, day that runs perfectly? Did I commit some heinous crime in a past life or something?
Seriously, I lay awake at 5am and alternate between trying to convince myself to get up and workout and planning my day. By the time 6am has rolled around, I'm still snuggled in bed but my day is mapped out to almost perfection.

On good days I get until 9 or maybe 10am before my "perfect" plans have gone right out the window, making way for chaos, anarchy and mass confusion. Leaving me tired, confused, and defeated at the end of the day.
Maybe I need to get up and use that hour to work out, then I would at least have some results. But that would mean 90 minutes of exercise and I'm just so not into that. Too much sweating, yuck.

Today, I made it until 8:30. Got K dropped at school, realized I left my phone at home, ran home, find out that Scott had been calling me because he didn't feel well.

There goes my Starbucks, leisurely toddler free grocery store and post office run.

Fortunately, Scott's ickyness (yes, it's a word, at least to me) is nothing serious. Thinking he probably just has a touch of the stomach bug that Miss K had over the weekend. Nothing to worry about.
Get things situated at home and once again venture out into the big scary world with a new and improved modified plan of attack.

Things re-start well, I get K at school, we roll on over to Trader Joe's (I love me some TJ's) get the things we need for our planned dinner with BigDan and Kath. I'm driving home, thinking
"this is going well, I'll get K down for a nap and I'll...what the fuck is a public works truck doing in my driveway and why in the hell is there water everywhere."

Turns out a routine "check" on the b-box for the water line going to the vacant lot next door lead to some type of main break (or some such shit since this Village is full of idiots I never got a straight answer).
The nice lady from public works stands in my driveway wearing her muddy boots, dirty hands, neon green t-shirt and double strand of pearls (yes, pearls...whatthehell??) and informs me that they have to turn of my water until they can figure of the problem.
Um, hell NO. I have a toddler and a disabled husband, turning off my water for no good reason just aint happening.

I quickly realize that naptime will have to wait and I load Miss K back in the car and drive like a crazy woman to the Village hall.

I won't give any details of what happened once inside. I will only say that there was crying (not mine or K's), appropriate use of curse words and that in the end my water was turned on a short time later.

*bangs head on wall*

The worst part of this entire thing is not the soupy front lawn, the delayed naptime or the modifications to my modified plans but rather the cancellation of dinner with BigDan and Kath.
Just didn't want to take the chance that I wouldn't have water. Totally bogus!

The highlight during this afternoon's mess was Kate's conversation with the receptionist lady at Village hall.
Kate - we have water problem
Fake Nice Lady - oh, I'm sorry sweetie
Kate - you need fix it
FNL - well, sweetie it's going to take some time.
Kate - I not sweetie I Katie.
*FNL gives me the your kid is a brat look*
Kate - You need fix it. My daddy has to poopies in the potty. We have to flush the poopies away. You go fix it.

FNL stammers something and walks away. I have to resist the urge to give my daughter a high-five. Instead I tell her that we shouldn't talk about poppies in public. Damn, I hate being the mature, responsible adult.

This concludes yet another sad but true tale from the WWW.

*I'm not kidding about the double strand of pearls*