Allison and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

If only, as I blogged last night, I knew how true that final statement is.

Today I had a school visit that was scheduled for 10 a.m. I arrive at the school and they don't have me on their schedule. Okay. It happens. But the counselor was... not necessarily rude, but needlessly under-friendly. He told me that his secretary is out today, but she's normally very good about these things and I wasn't on her schedule. It was mostly a tone of voice thing. How does a miscommunication between two parties automatically mean it's the other person's fault? I've been pretty meticulous with my schedule, too. Is it even a vague possibility that maybe I got lost in the shuffle? Just saying, it's a 50/50 chance. I would have been more understanding if they had been completely busy, but there was no one in the office. The receptionist was texting when I walked in. They had time to be nice.

So as I walked to my car I texted a friend, "Is 'kind of douchey' an appropriate phrase for a school evaluation?" (Still waiting for a response on that one.) Shortly after, Jesus roundhouse kicked me in the face with a "Don't call someone douchey, douchebag." (This is really hard for me to write. Please bear with me.) I ran over a cat. It was an accident, I swear. It ran into the road and I didn't have time to stop. And even worse, it was a busy road with no shoulder, so I couldn't pull over immediately and make sure it was okay (even though I knew it wasn't). I held back tears and looped around to get back to the cat, but it took about ten minutes and by the time I got there the cat was sprawled unmistakeably towards the side of the road. So I had to drive by it again and take in the crime scene, knowing that I would be a complete lunatic if I pulled over and moved the feline corpse. (Not to mention the germs.) So it had to stay there. I didn't see a collar, which means: 1. I might not have killed a small child's pet; 2. I might have killed a small child's pet and will never know; 3. I might have killed a plucky stray who survived countless tragedies until I came along. In my top ten guilt-experiencing moments, this ranks in the top half. And I was raised by Catholics.