Tuesday was one of those days. I woke up and realized I was out of coffee beans, which made me want to call it a day and get back in bed. Then, while making the girls’ breakfast, I dropped a glass bowl – a tiny glass bowl only big enough to fit the girls’ vitamins – onto the kitchen floor. I’m still wondering how the glass managed to defy physics and travel all the way to the opposite end of the house.
My daughter had “crazy hair day” at school and had a very specific way she wanted her hair to be parted and put into a ponytail on the top of her head like a tree. My beauty salon skills, however, were horrifically disappointing to her.
Grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I then realized the cord was unplugged from the wall and my phone had 1% battery power. To top it off, I walked into the bathroom at the opposite end of the house, stepped on a piece of glass from that physics-defying broken bowl, and cut my foot.
It wasn’t even 6:15 a.m. yet.
In the words of the children’s book character Alexander, my day was turning into a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad one.
“Stop. Recharge,” my phone informed me with its battery indicator. I plugged it in. Left it there. Gave the phone time to become functional again.
“Stop. Recharge,” my mind informed me with my thoughts mad and racing. I made some tea. Walked outside and watched the sun rise for a few minutes. Gave myself some time to become functional again.