This weekend was supposed to be a relaxing series of days during which I would rest and, hopefully, recover from whatever demon had invaded my sinus cavities. I had planned to take the Man-Cub to his wrestling tournament on Saturday and, as a reward for what I knew would be his hard work and demonstration of good sportsmanship, to a favorite restaurant for breakfast on Sunday. I had already finished my housework, freeing myself to sleep in, and, I was really looking forward to chilling on the couch with mug upon mug of hot tea with lemon and honey; knowing that my sore throat would thank me for the effort. The weekend was totally planned.
You know what they say about best-laid plans, right?
Thursday, the brand new computers at the store decided to shit the bed. Hugh was on the phone with our advice line from 11:00 a.m. until 3:00 p.m. with no end to the problem in sight. Since he was supposed to leave the house for The Teenager's volleyball tournament in Denver at 3:30, this was a problem.
I am not tech-savvy enough to talk the advice line through the issues that we were experiencing and it became rapidly apparent that I was going to have to take the girls to Denver (we had already committed to giving one of The Teenager's team mates a ride), which, I did. In a snowstorm. In the dark.
Have I mentioned that I am not the most confident driver in the snow? Or, that my night vision sucks under the best of circumstances? Yeah.
The trip took six and a half hours; we arrived at our hotel at almost 11:00, exhausted, hungry and, in my case, with a fever and a throat so sore and swollen, the simple act of swallowing had become too painful to contemplate.
At 6:00 the following morning, we hit the ground running and we didn't stop for the next three days.
Three days of early mornings, late nights, city driving (which, with the exception of a particularly hazardous journey through a horrifyingly vertical parking garage, I surprised myself with being quite good at; who knew?), numerous hours spent sitting on a cold concrete floor, waiting for games to begin followed by eight volleyball games to cheer through.
The girls did ok. We lost all but one game and, I blame the coach, with whom Hugh will probably have words again before this season is (thankfully) over. But, they got to experience something different, due to the sheer size of the tournament.
And, I felt like pounded dog shit through the entire thing.
On the bright side, The Teenager did find a prom dress, we had a lot of laughs with her and her team mate (who is a doll and to whom I would offer a ride, anywhere, anytime) and, I got to visit my dad in the hospital, where he has been since his surgeries in February (he's doing great).
We finally got home a little before 8:00 last night and, while I would love to say that I got to finally relax and drink those mugs of hot tea; that would be a lie.
Instead, I got to do three days worth of dishes, because, apparently; I am the only adult in my household capable of placing dishes in the dishwasher or of running a sink full of soapy water. I would make a joke about job security at this point but, I'm still too exhausted to do so.
After work this afternoon, I plan to crawl into my bed and I'm not planning to come out again until tomorrow morning. Of course, we all know how well planning actually works out for me, so...yeah...that's not going to happen.