Where's The Delete Button?

Have you ever had one of those days where you'd like to rewind and start over? Yeah, me too, but today was not one of those days. Today was a day I'd like to delete from memory, never to have to worry about again.

I don't recommend dwelling on negatives in life because it does absolutely no good, however, I'm about to make an exception.

When my alarm went off at 5:30 this morning my head was already throbbing. That should have been indication to stay home, but no, good employee Krystal got up, got dressed and drove to work. Only the headache was much worse by the time I arrived. So six Ibuprofen later--I do not condone overdosing--the headache was gone, but replaced by shaking, nausea blah blah waah, right?

Well, I sucked it up and put in a full day, then jumped in my car with a twinge of a returning headache and drove home. The look on my husband's face when I stepped through the door sent creepy crawlies all over my skin. The narrowed eyes, the pursed lips, the heavy breaths--all warning signs shit had hit the fan. If only I'd realized literal dog shit had hit the figurative fan I'd have turned and run away.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Why the hell did I ask that?

He cocked his head to the side, eyebrow raised in a do-you-really-want-to-know way. "Bailey was sick."

A string of foul language I'd rather not post here ran through my head, but my children were around so I asked, "How bad?"

Again with the look. "It was fine until he shook."

Okay, so enough details about that. We drew straws to decide who would take care of the kids and who would clean the mess . . . I lost. After I bleached everything in sight, washed the dog, blow dried the dog, brushed the dog, vacuumed the basement, cleaned the bathroom where I bathed him, and showered myself . . . my headache came back in full swing. Grrr!

And somehow I've managed to write this with a smile on my face. Harumph. I guess this just goes to show, no matter how bad things may be I know they can always get worse.