Yesterday wasn’t entirely a bad day—though for about two hours, it certainly felt like chaos had taken over.
Just as I was about to get ready for the Lil Leopards class, I noticed my washing machine flashing an error code. The culprit? A small rug I had attempted to wash. It had shredded into pieces, clogging the machine and creating a minor flood. After mopping up the mess and clearing out what I hoped were all the blockages, I managed to get it running again—only to dump the dirty water into the tub, which promptly decided it wouldn’t drain.
At that very moment, Tank padded into the bathroom whining. He’s not one to complain, so I knew something was wrong. Sure enough, he had knocked over the large (and full) garbage can and helped himself to a buffet of expired scraps. That was the breaking point. I stepped outside for a much-needed pity party while keeping a weary eye on Tank—who, just to add to the drama, began limping. That was it. I decided I wasn’t going anywhere.
But when Dan came home and stepped into the madness—still calm, still clear-headed—he refused to let me give in to it. He handed me my uniform and insisted I get to class. I resisted, but he knew what I needed before I did: a reset, a chance to breathe, move, and come back with a fresh mind.
And he was right. I’m so glad I went.
Blog Version #3
Yesterday wasn’t a terrible day… though for about two hours, my life turned into a sitcom that no one asked to watch.
Just as I was about to get ready for the Lil Leopards class, I walked past the washing machine and saw it flashing an error code—never a good sign. Turns out, my bright idea of washing a small rug was not so bright. It shredded itself into oblivion, clogged the machine, and created a minor indoor water feature. After some creative mopping and a battle with the filter, I got it running again. Victory was short-lived, though, because I dumped the dirty water into the bathtub… which immediately decided to quit draining, too.
Enter Tank. Normally stoic, he came into the bathroom whining. Red flag. Sure enough, he had tipped over the big, full garbage can and treated himself to a buffet of expired “goodies”. And that was my breaking point. I staged a solo pity party outside while supervising Tank, who, because the universe has a sense of humor, then started limping. At that moment, I officially tapped out. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Cue Dan’s entrance. He walked into the chaos like a man untouched by frustration, handed me my uniform, and all but shoved me out the door to class. I resisted, of course—because sulking felt safer—but he was right. My brain desperately needed a reboot.
And thank goodness I listened, because after class I came back calmer, clearer, and way more ready to face clogged drains, guilty dogs, and whatever else the universe throws at me.
