When I looked at my calendar this morning, I shuddered – It’s Friday the 13th, agh! All it takes is things going horribly wrong on one of those days and you fear them forever. Even if you aren’t that superstitious, there’s still that niggly little feeling in the back of your head.
I had it, I won’t lie…
The Mongolian Shit Invasion, who could ever forget it!
The first thing that came to mind was that something was going to go wrong in our house. For the past week we’ve had three guys here repairing and repainting pretty much our entire flat. Their last day on Friday the 13th? We were screwed, something was going to go horribly wrong and cost us a fortune to fix. I was convinced.
Only not so much, they finished up, tidied up after themselves, thanked us for the gig and were gone without incident. Unless, of course, you count my spatially challenged husband continuously walking into wet doorframes, that is… but that’s a rant for another day. I knew not to count my chickens before they hatched as we still had some things to get done before the day was over. Mainly getting everything back in our big clothes cupboard so we can sleep in our bed tonight. I had to remove everything from it yesterday so that I could move it to make space for the painters to work on some stuff, which meant it had to all go back together today.
My husband has scoliosis, and I’m a tough chick, so I do most of the moving of furniture and any lifting within my abilities. So this happened…
Hey, if I’m going to be busy shoving furniture around, he can figure dinner out, right? Of course, he did what most men would do (including his friend Marc, apparently), and ordered dinner online. He had a craving for meat and luckily the grillrooms here have just the thing to satisfy him, but not me. I’m really not into what I call “meat blobs”, which is basically giant blobs of spiced meat in a styrofoam container, with fries and garlic sauce. Blech.
He wanted to order from a place we’ve never ordered from before, because they had an EVEN BIGGER meal blob offer, so I told him to just order a pizza for me and we can have the leftovers sometime over the next few days. I was tired, we were both hungry and I just couldn’t get imaginative with what I wanted to eat. What all else fails, when nothing else appeals, pizza always does the trick.
Remember when I said the day wasn’t over yet? Well, our food arrived and the pizza smelled absolutely delicious… I was drooling!! Then this happened…
I don’t know what the delivery guy did to my pizza but it arrived looking like the greasy, teenaged face of the elephant man. Everything was all shlobbed off to the side, there was a disgusting, greasy river going down the middle, it was nasty. We ended up phoning and they said they’d send us another pizza, but we had to give this one back. Hey, gladly!
It was getting late, I was tired, plus we’d not had lunch so we were both hangry and I just needed to eat. I threw my hands in the air at the idea of waiting for another pizza to arrive, and set to making something for myself. I put it in the oven, sat down, and no lie, within 15 minutes of the call, they were here with our new pizza. Which looked MUCH better… but… I’d just put dinner in the oven and wasn’t going to be ready for another 20 minutes! So, stubbornly, I sat and waited for my own homemade food, cuz that’s just how I roll.
Oh well, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It can only get better from here, right?! Plus, compared to the renovation disaster I was expecting, a sloppy pizza doesn’t seem so bad. At least the replacement was free!