One Fine Day

               Every once in a while, it’s humbling to have a day – one 24-hour period – in which you make so many ridiculous mistakes that you appreciate your own faults and failures.  Unfortunately, for me, I don’t need a full day of mishaps to realize just how dumb I can be.  I mean, after all, I’m the woman who confidently backed my car out of the garage and hit my husband’s car parked behind me.  Twice.  And a porch one time.  And the closed garage door once.  So I have sufficient memories of stupid moves to keep me humble.  I don’t need a day chock full of them, do I?

               And yet.

               Just this past week, I had one 24-hour period that was so awful I’m just going to erase it from memory.  I made so many mistakes, gaffes, and blunders that I couldn’t begin to relate them all. Let me share just the top three.

               I started my day by going to a local department store to buy new sheets for our bed.  While there, I saw the display at the end of the check-out lanes of stuffed animals and books.  They were featuring “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” a classic book I had to have for our grandson. So I plucked one off the rack and tossed it onto the pile.

               Onto the breakfast club!  Our church provides breakfast to anyone who wishes every week day morning.  This was our morning to help distribute.  I participated and had a grand time, even though it was a little chilly. At the end of the morning, I texted the program coordinator to tell her how many meals we had distributed.

               As I was also cleaning the kitchen, I used the handy audio text feature and said to my phone, “We served 23 breakfasts, so there are 15 remaining for tomorrow.  Many of our regulars were not here.”  I pressed send and continued on my tasks.

               I finished cleaning and dashed a few blocks to the store where I volunteer.  I was going to check the schedule to find out who was working the following day so I could send them a message. I was dismayed to find that it was my name on the schedule for that day.  In the seven years I have worked there, I had never failed to record my shifts on my home calendar.  Until today, of course, when I had scheduled two appointments.

               While I was in the midst of changing those appointments so that I could work my shift, I received a text from the program coordinator of the breakfast club.  It said “I think I understand your message.  Thanks for the laugh.”

               I scrolled up on my phone to read what I had sent.  Regardless of what I had actually said, my phone decided to send this:  “We served 23 breakfasts, so there are 15 remaining for tomorrow.  Many of our regulars were not horny.”

               Good grief!  Now I was stressed and embarrassed, but fortunately, the program coordinator has a wonderful sense of humor.

               I finished my work, got to my rearranged appointment, and returned home, tossing the bag of sheets and the book on the table. The book slid out, and stayed on the table for the rest of the day.  That evening, our son came over while I was making dinner and picked up the book.  “Oh,” he said, with some interest, “are you going to teach your grandson Spanish?” 

               I looked around in confusion while my son and husband began to guffaw.  I had purchased “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” in SPANISH!  “La Oruga Muy Hambrienta.”  Geez Louise.

               A very humbling day, indeed.