Bad Day

The alarm woke me up this morning at 6:45 as usual. OW! Damn. I must have slept funny, as I couldn't turn my head to the left. I stood up. WHOA! Yep, still had vertigo.  I meandered into the kitchen and happened to glance at the clock on the stove. 7:52. Strange. I turned on the computer 7:52. WWAAAAHHH??!!! The alarm clock was screwed. I had 8 minutes to get Jude to school. I hauled the child out of bed, and started to get him breakfasted and ready, when I realized that the night before I had washed all his school uniforms, but had failed to put them in the dryer. I threw up my hands and resigned myself to a tardy slip.

As soon as I got home from dropping Jude at school 30 minutes late, a truck pulled into the driveway behind me. It was Pete, the house painter. Everyone that we ever have doing any work around our house is an out of work actor, working their side job. Tom the electrician, Dave the handyman, Pete the painter. All actors, all willing to work cheap, as long as you understand that they might have to leave something half finished if they get an audition. Pete was in the middle of painting Jude's bathroom. "Did you get the paint?" he asked. Uh, no, I had not. Damn. I ran to the hardware store, and made an incredibly quick paint decision. Which is insanely out of character for me, I usually deliberate and fret about paint color for months, obsessively painting little swatches from samples. But maybe this is good? Going from the gut, going on instinct. I grabbed the paint that "spoke to me" and rushed it home to Pete. OW! Neck. WHOA! Vertigo.

When I got home, and was lugging the paint into the house, my neighbor Natalie ran over from next door. Natalie is an eccentric old Russian woman, who is the Alice Kravitz of the neighborhood. She's eagle-eyed and eager to point out every transgression you make. Everything is a disaster with Natalie. High drama reigns. She always speaks in a loud, breathless whisper. "Greeeeettchen! Greeeeeettchen!" "Oh hey, Natalie." I always find myself reacting to Natalie's melodrama by becoming overly laid back. "Greeeeetchen, you have to look on side of house! Is drain! Is water comes out of it!" "A drain?" I say casually. "On side of your house! Water comes from drain! And puppy dog will get sick to drink it!" "Hmm. I wonder what that could be. I'll take a look." "Is poopy! On side of house!' "Yes, Natalie, I know, I need to scoop up Fancy's poop. Thank you so much for reminding me this." (you nosy, old bitch...)

I went in, got showered and dressed and ready for my day, which was to involve driving all over LA, going to two auditions and a doctors appointment. While unable to turn my neck to the left, and with the road spinning under me from my vertigo.

As I was about to head to the car, I remembered Natalie's mysterious mention of a "drain", and decided to walk around to the side of the house. Strange. The side of the yard seemed to have become a swamp. I started to pick my way through it when I saw what looked like...toilet paper. And..."poopy". EEWWW. There was the house's overflow pipe, with the top off of it. And what appeared to be raw sewage all around it. Hunks of "poopy" floated by. I managed to get the top and screw it back on the pipe. Wait, did I say EWWWW? Now granted, it was the "poopy" of my child and husband and...you know, me, but still. EEWWW. I have no idea how it came off. I chose to ignore it, and ran to my audition, hoping it would all heal itself while I was gone.

The first audition was uneventful. But the second one proved trying. First I drove around the block for 20 minutes looking for a parking spot. Then, I had to change into a nice dress and high heels to play a woman whose psoriasis was at long last cured. Apparently, when one is finally relieved from the pain and suffering of a lingering skin disorder, one smiles and laughs merrily, while walking along in a carefree, leisurely way, delighting in the fact that now one can reveal her once embarrassing skin for all the world to see. As I was leaving the building after this embarrassment, my vertigo kicked in, I fell off my high heels, down the front steps of the casting office, and skinned my knee.

I got to my doctors appointment in plenty of time, and was eager to maybe, finally, please God, find out what the hell this vertigo is, and how to get rid of it. The only parking available within a three mile radius is the valet parking in the building. Oh well. The ear/nose/throat doctor is a tiny, cheery man, who gets my jokes. So I immediately like him. He puts me through a litany of peculiar little tests - put your arms out to your sides. Now touch your nose with your right forefinger. Your left forefinger. Stand on your left foot. Your right foot. You get the idea. He looked into every orifice in my head. He then sent me in to get a hearing test. The results? He thinks I have a viral infection of the inner ear. For which you can do? Not much. He has given me a steroid medicine, which is supposed to take down the inflammation of my inner ear. Hopefully, it won't blow me up into a sausage. The visit to the doctor cost me $5, which was my co-pay. The fee to get my car out of it's valet parking jail? $12.

On the way home, I stopped at the store to get my prescriptions filled and pick up some vodka, because, really, I deserved it. The medication costs $115. Because it's the beginning of the year, and there's this pesky deductible thing. When I got back to the car, I couldn't find my keys. Which never happens to me. Jimmy loses his keys daily, but I really, truly, probably lose my keys once every 10 years. I searched my purse, I headed back into the store. I retraced my steps. I got the employees looking. I searched my purse again. Heh. Oh look, here they are. I hid in shame, and left quickly.

I got home, and found that Jude's bathroom is now painted the most startling and nausea-inducing shade of green known to man. Jimmy loves it!

And then, the most pathetic thing of all. I finally collapsed in my favorite chair, little drinky-poo in hand. I waved off Jimmy and Jude - Mama's too tired. She's had a bad day. I opened up my little laptop and checked my blog...

Yesterday's post about my neck wattle and the catalog? The one I thought was pretty funny? Got TWO comments. TWO. No, I lie. I am telling you a lie. That second comment? The one from someone named Caroline? That's from me! I decided to post a fake comment to make sure that the commenter wasn't broken or something. I used my middle name and deliberately wrote just the lamest comment I could imagine. So that means I actually got ONE comment. And it's from Samantha, who's my NIECE. Isn't this just the saddest thing? I'm stunned. I don't think I've ever gotten just one comment, since I started this blog. This is very disturbing. And while my traffic wasn't that low, I didn't get one single visit through the Google Reader. Does that mean that my post somehow didn't get linked through the Reader? I sincerely hope that's the problem, and not that I have scared everyone off my revealing myself, and talking about my neck wattle.

I still haven't ventured to the side of the house to see if the swamp of sewage has abated.

And I still can't turn my neck to the left.

It's been a bad day.

Comments

[Amy]

I can say for sure that I am neither you nor your niece! And that you are HILARIOUS, but I'm sorry that your day was so trying. I am amazed that you are doing all that stuff, all with vertigo! Like, doesn't it make you nauseated?

And sorry for not commenting on yesterday's! I read it, but on Jason's Iphone, from which I don't know how to comment. :) Perhaps people are too insecure about their own wattles to comment. You know, wattles get in the way sometimes.

[Heather (qtberryhead)]

OMG! What a poopy day! Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Thank you for voicing the thoughts that I always have when I see commercials like the one you mentioned...because, yeah.
I always lose things in my purse, but resort to dumping the contents before involving judgemental third parties.
As far as yesterday...sorry, I've been spending every non-school minute taking my daughter to the hospital to see her friend. I'm beginning to wonder if I can just rent a room for her at the hospital.
Hope you get the job(s)!

[Michele Renee]

That was a completely bad day! Except for the auditions. I think the paying for the parking to see the doc would send me over the edge. Sure, you do in downtown and midtown Atl but no where else. Does Jimmy know about the poopy? And always ask the doc for samples before you buy a new Rx. And if there is a generic. Or was that the generic?
I think people have been more quiet on the internet these days--exhaustion and the Olympics. I am off to drive 5.5 hours round trip for a meeting for the second time this week. I feel dizzy.

[middle-aged-woman]

Okay, now I get the wattles turn-off thing. YOU need to see a very good chiropractor. You are in SoCal, right? There must be a million!

[Jan]

Well, I've been having trouble commenting on TypePad blogs; perhaps that was the problem?

What happened to the poopy swamp on the side of the house, or are you just not up to that now?

[The Bug]

Now, see, I read yesterday's post (quite hilarious) but then made a conscious decision not to comment (oh she gets plenty of traffic - she doesn't need to hear from me). Oops!

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to get near that pipe, much less do anything constructive about the problem. Blech! So you're my hero!

[Shelby]

Hilarious! I had a similar viral infection in my ear one time, and the hearing test consisted entirely of questioning guesses for me. Like the part where you're supposed to repeat the word you hear? It was like this: "Ball" "Wall?"..."Kite" "Kite?"..."Faker" "No I'm not!"

[the mama bird diaries]

I'm sorry for such a bad day. Days like that suck.

[lynn]

it's not only amazing you could do all those things in one day, with vertigo but then to be able to write/blog about it--that alone would wear me out!! You are really too funny. Have a better today!!

[Captain Dumbass]

Wow. Your day really sucked.

[Jenni]

that was a pretty shitty day.

[Lisa]

Yes Greeeeeettchen, it's true. I had no choice but to remove you from my reader after your shocking neck wattle revelation. Terribly sorry, but I'm sure you understand.

[The Lawyer Mom]

Oh, but surely you're feeling better now. Nothing like faux gratitude for lost psoriasis to turn a girl around. I would've read your neck wattle post but . . . I got hijacked by a new iphone and have only managed to figure out that it doesn't like lotion on my hands. At all.

[Johanna]

If you still are not feeling better try my remedy for vertigo. It helps me every time. But my vertigo has nothing to do with inner ear problems. Pull your earlobes down and out (gently) and hold for awhile. Things stop spinning for me after some time. Supposed to have something to do with release of faschia.
For the neck pain you have to have your neck aligned by a gentle chiropractor. Then do the neck stretches and use heat on the neck.
Bonne chance!

[Brenda]

I use the Google reader - I think - if it's the orange square thingy, and it hasn't updated your blog since February 15th. I finally clicked on your main page, and found you'd had lots of new posts!
Best wishes on those jobs!

[Sara]

All funny (after the fact of course. LOL-ing over here! And where is the picture of the horrible green paint? I wonder if it tops my own horrible green paint choice. I'll show you mine if you show me yours.)
but I am still chewing on the fact that 1. you screwed the poop lid back on with bare hands, not that you had much choice, and 2. you basically just said screw the poop lid, I'll check it eventually.

What a frickin day! (I have a doctor's excuse for commenting late.)