Tuesday, May 22, 2018

…the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day



My new closet looked so good, I posted a photo of it on Facebook. Proud of my hard work at our recently purchased home…I thought myself to be in pretty good shape to tackle the next project.

That was the Master Bathroom. Check that off the list. Looks good, even though the curtains aren’t on the window yet because they’re in some box I packed that’s stacked in the house.

Today, I’d planned to work on lining the kitchen drawers and getting that most-important room ready before the weekend when Joe will be driving home for an overnight visit. You see…he is still in Kingsport finishing his work at First Broad Street UMC through the end of June while I am here getting settled into our retirement home in time to welcome a new granddaughter in a few weeks.

The title of this blog, borrowed from the book/movie “Alexander And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” is more true than I’d like. It started this morning at 2:55 a.m. and went downhill from there.

Here I was all snug and enjoying sleeping on my new pillow (yes, it’s a My Pillow and it’s too wonderful for words) when I heard a loud noise coming from my perfect closet. My husband had told me it wasn’t a good idea to load so many clothes on that rack. I retorted that the builders put in this closet system, so it MUST be able to handle the weight.

My first thought when I heard the noise was, ‘Joe was right. I hate it when he’s right.’ I got out of bed, opened the door to the perfect closet and found all my clothes and shoes on the floor. I closed the door. What could I do about it at 3 a.m. anyhow?!? After about 30 minutes of stewing, I finally fell asleep. I’m sure if it weren’t for the new My Pillow, I’d have been stewing for MUCH longer…

This morning, after taking measurements and photos of the wall to see what I needed, I headed for my favorite store to pick up new brackets and all I needed to bolster the support for what should again become the perfect closet. The wall wasn’t damaged in the catastrophe, so I didn’t have to get anything else. After showing her the not-so-perfect closet photo on my phone, I paid the cashier for my purchase, and headed to the restaurant where I’d grab a bite before going home to be “Mrs. Fixit!”

Wait! Where’s my phone?!? The waitress brought my order and I was in a panic. I ran to the checkout and borrowed a phone to call the store I just left. No, they hadn’t had a phone turned in at Customer Service. I scarfed down my soup and egg roll, then quickly drove back to the store. I searched the parking lot. I searched the shopping carts (buggies, if you’re from the south) and the phone was nowhere to be found. The cashier who’d checked me out earlier got the head of security to check video footage. He saw when I’d shown her my photo, then closed the flap on my phone and laid it in the baby seat part of my cart, covering it with my purse. He even saw where I’d walked in the parking lot. But the phone was not seen after I covered it with my purse. We walked out there and he kept dialing my number so we could hear it ring. Over and over, he dialed it. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

I left there and drove back to the restaurant. No, they hadn’t seen it! I drove back to the store. No, it hasn’t been turned in. I drove to my Verizon dealer to see if they could help me. They ‘pinged’ my phone and said it was at the front of the store where I’d shopped. I drove back to the store. No. It still hadn’t been turned in! Then I saw the security footage guy.

“Glad you found your phone!”

“I didn’t find my phone.”

“You texted me that you did…said it was in your car.”

“I didn’t text you. Whoever has my phone texted you.”

Then the security footage guy texted a message to my phone that the owner was standing right there with him and wanted it returned – no questions asked. He even added the little white lie that the police department was ‘pinging’ the phone and knew where it was.

Within 10 minutes, my phone magically appeared at the desk in the ceiling fan section of the store. He raced to get it and handed it to me! He didn’t see who left it, but he will - because he’s going to check the video footage. I was so happy to have the phone back that I hugged the guy!!!

After checking my phone, I saw that all the ‘notes’ on my phone had been deleted. Quotes, scriptures, funny stuff and…yes, passwords. No one would know which passwords were for which thing except for me. But they were gone. Boy, is that little stinker that stole my phone gonna be surprised when none of those passwords work because I hurried home, got on my computer and changed all of them. Even called LifeLock to let them know what had happened so they could be alerted.

The clothes are still on the floor in my closet. As Scarlett O’Hara said, “…tomorrow IS another day!”

But for today, the title of this blog posting is accurate.
I’ve been quite emotional since this move to Maryville. Happy to be here. Sad to leave my friends and church in Kingsport. Happy that Joe is retiring. Sad that he has to stay up there and finish while I’m down here missing him (except for Sundays that I drive up to hear him preach). Happy that I’m only 25 minutes from my beautiful/wonderful/amazing daughter and her growing family. And aggravated that someone would steal my iPhone!

So…it’s only a cell phone. I lived without one for years. Why did I get so upset about it?!? Because I don’t know people’s phone numbers by heart……..and it’s full of pictures of my granddaughter! Duh!!!





Remember. If you have a pulse, you have a purpose. Make your life count!