Like any beast of burden (read mother), I can carry a pretty heavy load, but it only takes one small, tiny, insignificant thing to tip the balance.
It was a cup of tea.
I made a cup of tea.
I find very little can’t be handled with a cup of tea.
As I sat down with a sigh of relief, there was a moment when it all hung in the balance.
Then the chair teetered, tottered, then gave up the battle and simply fell apart.
A tsunami wave of scalding hot sweet tea rose in the air, gathered its strength and then proceeded to douse me, the floor, my bag, my computer, my keyboard, my mouse and then seep into every nook and every cranny.
That’s what almost made me weep in despair.
Not the small boy with glandular fever and tonsillitis.
Not the fact that this constant rain means I will spend my evening in a Laundromat trying to get some dry clothes.
Not the fact that The Husband is off in sunny Dubai ogling nubile MILFs in bikinis by the pool.
Not the fact that my nanny has departed to places unknown for a funeral or a sick sister depending on what she told whom.
Not landing on my ass trying to fix my mother’s garage door and snapping off the entire opening mechanism in the process.
Not finding out today is THE day monthly-cycle wise.
No. It was the tea.
The tea did it.
I felt like calling work and simply saying: