That's what the wrapper of my daily Dove dark chocolate said, but I think i'm going to listen to my instinct do the opposite. I'm having one of those days in which you wonder if you're being recorded for a blooper show, in which every tiny particular goes wrong just enough to make you feel crazy, but not enough to make you cry. Here's a rundown:
1. Called the dentist to make an appointment. They don't have my records. Old dentist says the sent the records, new dentist says they never received them, now I have no records. So they won't schedule me.
2. Called to make a hair appointment. My stylist left. Craig's stylist left. I have to make an appointment with someone i've never heard of.
3. Go out to the car to meet someone at 10:20 and sell her a baby thingie. Realized i've locked Cleo and myself in the garage, but no worries, since I keep a house key in the car.
4. Realize Cleo has used the key to lock my car from the living room. So we have no keys, no phone, no diapers, no nothing.
5. Realize none of our "buddy" neighbors are home. Go next door to folks we've only met once to use their phone to call my mom and get her to bring the spare key.
6. Cleo takes a massively enormous dump in her only diaper and starts screaming for a new boppy, which I can't provide. She smells like a port-o-potty as she plays with a deflated ball in the garage.
7. Mom brings the keys, we get in the house and hightail it to the meeting, 20 minutes late. The other mom has given up and left. I change Cleo's horrid diaper on a fleece jacket in the front seat of my car, since the baby thingie for sale is taking up the trunk. Nasty bits of doo get everywhere. We use our last diaper and last 2 wipes. Cleo screams at being returned to captivity in the carseat.
8. Needing diapers and 30 minutes early for lunch with mom, we go to Kroger. Cleo is so upset that I decide to use one of those enormous car carts, the ones that are double long and have a steering wheel. Cleo has fun screaming BEEP BEEP at the poor passerby i'm trying not to hit, as these gigantic carts are so back-heavy that their front wheels don't work.
9. I try to put my mail in a mailbox outside Kroger, but it's really a Foreign Legion flag drop off or something, and I barely am able to squeeze my letters out before they drop into the belly of the box, lost forever. Netflix almost charges me $1000 for an unwatched disc 1 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
10. As we get in the car and Cleo goes from BEEP BEEP to NOOOOOOOO, MOMMY!, the Kroger cart guy, who is a few buttons short of a barrel, attempts to play with Cleo in her car seat, freaking out my mommy instinct. My cell phone starts ringing, and the cart starts rolling away, and he luckily withdraws before I have to rabbit punch him. I am as frantic as I get.
And I guess it goes back to normal. We had a lovely and delicious lunch at Oak Street Cafe, Cleo ate a piece of cheese, drank some milk, and acted very beguiling. We have more boppies. I have a full tummy. We have 2 hours to kill until our next appointment. I am not following my instincts, except the one about having a spare key made an hiding it somewhere.
Wish us luck.