I had a bad day

I wish I'd stayed in bed today. Pretty much each second from the time I got up until I got off work was a slow and painful trip that I could only hope would ultimately end where it started, under the covers.

What went so wrong? I lost my balance in my morning yoga workout and fell over while doing "reverse prayer" position. I wore uncomfortable shoes to work because they "went with" my only pair of clean pants. My hair became instantly oily the moment it dried from the shower. My work computer was slow all day and crashed three times. I was so far behind I had to eat lunch at my desk while fielding phone calls. My boss was more evil than usual. I picked a fight with the husband on the ride home from work.

My dad would say "You didn't get fired, right? You're still getting a paycheck, right? Sounds like a good day to me." Maybe things really were simpler in those days. You know those days where the school was strategically located so that kids had to walk 5 miles uphill both to and from the building in two feet of snow year-round.

When I got home I mentally went through my mood-altering options. Go for a run, drink a giant glass of wine, call and friend and complain, watch a Lifetime movie about people more pathetic than me. I settled on the run.

When I got home, the husband had prepared a delicious dinner (even though it was my night to cook) and poured me a glass of Oregon pinot noir, my favorite. I felt immediately better.

He even downloaded my favorite bad-day song, Shania Twain's "Honey I'm Home," and listened to it with me. He didn't even roll his eyes when I repeatedly shouted "this job ain't worth the pain."

The husband put an end to my bad day before I could even get under the covers.