No sudden moves, no loud noises.

This day is giving me a twitch over my right eye. Yesterday was such a good day. I have the back and first sleeve of the boring cardie done, and the second sleeve is underway. I have a plan for the button bands which I will reveal in the fullness of time. I even have crocuses in the garden.
Kathy, j’ai changé en des fleurs juste pour vous. Aucuns chatons aujourd’hui.
Then today began…and it’s been, well. Like this.
2:47am. I am still waiting for the snowdrop baby to arrive. The mother of the snowdrop lives about an hour from here, so I’ve got some concerns about getting there quickly. When my pager goes off at 2:47 I ricochet out of bed, smash my head on the dresser and try to read my pager as I jam my legs into my jeans. I can’t read it in the dark, so I don’t read it. Only the snowdrop is due, and only my clients use my pager. I don’t want to wake Joe, so I ram the pager into my pocket, pull a sweatshirt over my head and leave the bedroom with mismatched socks. I brush my teeth while mentally running through my checklist. Someone to watch the kids, food in the fridge, other commitments to cancel. I run down the stairs to the phone. I note the time. I am a star.
2:51 I can’t find the phone. I find my knitting and client file while I am looking, and after several moments of deepening panic (during which it doesn’t occur to me to use the other phone) I locate the cordless phone in the basement on top of the dryer. It’s battery is dead. (It is worth noting that this is no-ones fault but mine. The fact that it is on the dryer means that it was me…nobody else in this house even knows where the dryer is.)
2:55 I run to the other phone, putting my bag by the door as I go and stringing together expletives. I reach into my pocket, pull out my pager and….
It is a 1-800 number. It is pager spam. I am up at 2:55 in the morning for pager spam.
3:00 Back in bed, delirious and exhausted but too enraged to sleep. I lie there for quite some time imagining revenge fantasies.
5:30 Megan’s alarm clock goes off. I stagger into her room to shut it off when she doesn’t. Megan offers no explanation, but does ask me why I am sleeping topless in a pair of jeans. I have no answer. On the way out of the room I step in an art project that Sam left on the floor. I hop to the bathroom to wash the wet paint off my foot.
5:40 Sam’s alarm goes off. Megan shuts it off. I try to sleep, but am jolted awake by the thought that the children clearly had some kind of activity planned between 5:30 and 5:40 that was important enough to have a double alarm system.
6:15 The cat wakes me up by licking my nose. I lock the cat out of the bedroom. Nose licking will not be tolerated.
6:27 I let the cat in. It turns out that I would rather have nose licking than incessant cat whining. I am feeling increasingly unloved.
7:30 My alarm goes off. I get up (and hit my head on the dresser again…I swear in the name of all things woolly that Joe is moving it while I’m out). I rouse the children and make coffee and lunches. I notice that someone has left the milk out overnight, so I start oatmeal.
7:34 The bread has been gnawed by a mouse. Likely while the cat was licking my nose. I resist the urge to use the bread anyway, and make pita pizzas for the girls. I am thinking about leaving. I don’t know where I would go, but I’m thinking about leaving.
7:45 Note to the Toronto Public School Board: I am as big a hockey fan as anybody. It turns my little Canadian crank that our womens hockey team kicked American arse. If, however you decide to have a “Red and White Day” to celebrate, I would like you to send some kind of note home so that I get more than 20 minutes to clothe an enthusiastic 10 year old girl who will not accept compromises (like cream and burgundy) in red and white clothing.
8:01 Locate Sam’s red pants in Megans drawer. Spend 5 minutes breaking up the fight that ensues. Deal with Megan’s emotional reaction to Sam’s accusation of pant theft. Deal with Sam’s emotional reaction to Megans denial.
8:11 After defusing the situation decide not to tell the children that it was probably me committing laundry error. Feel briefly guilty for that, but am distracted by the smoke alarm.
8:12 Remove immolated pita pizzas from oven. Curse loudly. Curse violently when I notice that there are pita pizzas on the counter that I made last night. Weep a little.
8:17 Amanda leaves. Note that she forgot lunch, chase her down the street. Return home, note that she forgot her sheet music for orchestra, chase her down the street further.
8:23 Amanda is back. She tells me that it is “Striped Sock Day” at her school. I resist the urge to choke her with a pair of striped socks, and instead hand them to her without comment. Decide that it is cruel to have high schools declare a different spirit day than elementary schools. Make mental note to send viciously worded email to Member of parliament later in the day addressing this very issue.
8:25 In a pre-emptive strike, ask Megan (who goes to middle school) if there is any sort of “Day” that I should know about. Smile to self when Megan replies “Screw it”.
8:30 Walk Sam to school. Successfully avoid PTA type who looks like she needs a volunteer…(I actually like this lady, but I’m anti-social before coffee) but accidentally walk into a tree branch while fleeing.
8:40 Return home. Get coffee. Sit to knit, relieved that the worst is over. Reach for my pattern and discover that the cat has exacted her revenge by depositing a hairball on my pattern notes. They are illegible, which is fine, because there is absolutely no way that I am even entertaining a suggestion of how to recover the notes.
I’m spending the rest of the day on the couch. Send chocolate.