I love days that you think are going to be cruddy because of the way they started out--kinda like eating a Reese's peanut butter cup. [Okay, never mind, those just stay cruddy...] My morning began with my phone buzzing relentlessly; my dad thought I had to be to work at 8am, when I didn't have to grace the FRAC with my presence until a quarter til one. I'm glad he cares enough to check on me, but he could've checked my schedule on the fridge and avoided a tad bit of drama when I got home from work.
Kurt and I have become more consistent on working out lately. Great, yes. However, today, I got halfway to FRAC when I realized that my work attire was in a grocery bag on the floor in my kitchen. Splendid. Not only did it make me ten minutes late for our workout, but also put me in a mildly cranky mood. It worked itself out as the day went on. We had an excellent workout, and my day at work went well.
Then, my nail polish began to chip on my right hand. Not a big deal, right? One would like to think.
After work, Shelby, Ashton (fabulous co-workers of mine!) and I went to Paradise Bakery for dinner before returning to work. I teach private swim lessons at the pool, and my first lesson for the evening went well. My student did excellent (she swam 25 yards consistently, which is HUGE for her). My second student of the evening was not on deck at 7pm, so I let my first lesson run a minute or two over. I began my second lesson at approximately 7:05; we have to be out of the pool AT 7:30, regardless of when we started, because we have a private swim club that pays an arm and a leg (read: hundreds of dollars an hour) to be in our water for two full hours.
The mother of my student was extremely upset because we didn't go 5 minutes over when we had started 5 minutes late. She launched into a tangent of all tangents, yelling at not only myself, but my co-worker Callie (who teaches this woman's younger son). We calmly try to explain why we have to be out of the water, and proceeds to yell at the swim club coach. She comes back to Callie and I, still fuming (I thought smoke was about to come from her ears), and continues to yell at us until I come up with a solution. She leaves; Callie and I go inside. The second the door closes, Callie is in tears, and I'm not far from them. I am so thankful and blessed to have a manager at work that I absolutely love, and who will back up her guards on a daily basis. That's all for my tangent right now, but I thought I'd share.
Oh, I also tripped while walking on deck between shifts and bit through the inside of my lip. Fantastic. It hurts and I have a puffy lower lip. It's quite attractive!
To finish this post on a high note: Thanks, Jackie, for always backing us up and being on our side. We love you for it. And Kurtis, thanks for making my night so much better. Your hugs and words of encouragement get me through.
Before I launch into more of what I'm thinking, it's best that I go to bed!
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