The Week of the Comedy of Errors

Laugh with me, friends. Laugh, because if you don't I might have to cry. It has been one of those weeks.

Have you seen the Veggie Tales "Jonah" movie? Remember the part where Bob the Tomato keeps getting hit in the head with the guitar because Junior's dad isn't paying attention? When Junior's dad (does this vegetable have a name? Cuz I can't recall . . . ) is confronted with his unconscious guitar bashing, he apologizes to Bob and says "Wow, I'm sorry. You know, I'm usually quite dexterous in the car."

Well, that's how I felt this week. Only not in the car. I'm usually quite dexterous in the kitchen . . .

I was late for work Monday night. First time. How was I supposed to know that when you make meatloaf (a recipe, by the way, that I've made countless times before WITH NO PROBLEMS), that you aren't supposed to completely fill the loaf pan? How was I supposed to know that the bubbling meat would drip and ooze and leak onto the bottom of the oven and start a fire?

Well, between the smoke and the smell, I learned. Don't ever underestimate meatloaf. It is a force to be reckoned with. Or as was the case Monday night, a force to be dealt with, cried over, cleaned up, thrown away, and replaced with KFC.

(as if allergies haven't been bad enough around here, I had to go and smoke up the house. My eyes watered for two days. I had to burn candles all day Tuesday to finally get the nasty smell out).

So yeah. That was Monday. Obviously, I needed to clean out the oven before I could use it again, because the drippings were wrecking havoc on the oven's delicate state of mind. But since I was already running late for work Monday night, I simply threw dinner out, ate my KFC and promised myself I would clean it "tomorrow."

Only I didn't. Because as I posted earlier, I have been busy cleaning the house all week, trying to get it put back together before Jason leaves for MA and Natalie comes to stay. Pictures need to be rearranged, books and CDs need a new home, etc. etc. The life of a busy housewife, right?

So I, erm, forgot about the oven.

Until last night. When I tried to make dinner yet again. Before work.

Laugh with me, friends.

Yep. The un-clean oven smoked up the house again. I was late for work again. Dinner was saved, but that's because dinner never made it into the oven in the first place.

But here's the hilarious part: after I'd loaded Caleb into the car to go out for Taco Bell, my car starting making funny noises. Not funny ha-ha. Funny uh-oh. Like someone had been stuffed into the glove box and was knocking to be let out. I'm dead serious. That's what it sounded like.

So I frantically call Jason, who is himself running late having worked overtime at his job, and implore him to hurry please, because not only can I not make dinner in my kitchen, I can't even go out for food. We are going to die of starvation. I have six Korean kids waiting for me to teach them English idioms and hopefully (they pray) take them to Starbucks afterward. In my car with the person hiding in the glove box.

Laugh with me, friends.

Now it's today. We put Caleb's carseat in Jason's car for the time being, since I can't take my car to the shop until Monday. And we drove out to Point Loma for a family day at the cliffs with Santana's for lunch.

Ahhhhhh. The birds sang, the salty breeze blew, and kid behaved, and . . .

I broke Jason's car window.

In WoW, a /facepalm would be appropriate here. Which is what I did. In real life.

How was I supposed to know the window would go *crunch* when I rolled it down??? A sickening, glass-shattering-sounding *crunch*. See, Caleb was fussy and I wanted him to enjoy that nice salty breeze. Well, he did alright. Because then the window wouldn't roll back up. Lots and lots of breeze. Now he's fussy because of the wind in his face.

Make up your mind, kid! Mommy's gotta stop breaking stuff!

Actually, the damage isn't as bad as we initially thought. The window is ok, intact and all. Not really sure where all that spine-tingling noise came from, but whatever mechanism keeps it up has broken and now as we drive, the window slowly rolls itself down. Yep. Fun times, friends. Fun times.

What with Jason leaving tomorrow, and my newly acquired ex-Midas touch, I'm a little worried what my husband will find when he comes home.

I have hope, though. Tomorrow is Sunday. First day of the week. And my prayer is that this week of comedy of errors will be at an end. That everything will go smoothly and perfectly while Jason is away. The birds will sing, the breeze will blow, windows won't go crunch, children will not get dirty, food will not set fires in the oven, that perfection itself will settle on my household and I will sprout angel wings.

Until then, however, feel free to keep laughing. I know I am.