Me and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day

Today's blog title comes from a children's book, because after the day I had a few days ago I wanted to curl up and bawl like an infant in need of formula.  "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day" is an ALA Notable Children's Book.  My day was also Notable, but for less pleasant reasons.

A plot-point by plot-point comparison.

Alexander wakes up with gum in his hair.

I woke up with mold in my hair, but that was nothing compared to the mold on my ceiling.

At breakfast, Alexander discovers there is no prize in his cereal.

There's really no competition here, because instead of eating breakfast I went down to the local market to argue with the man who restocks my weekly drinking water over why, exactly, he'd said 'ten minutes' before delivery if it was going to be more than an hour.  He thought the whole incident was a joke, and I told him I'd laugh the day he woke up thirsty in the moldy Serengeti.  His sympathy was limited, but at least I got my water bottle.

At school, Alexander's teacher does not like his drawing of an invisible castle.

I do not go to school, but I did go to visit the local tailor, only to discover - to my distress - that I was not pleased with the imaginary alterations she'd made to the dress I'd dropped off.  Part of the sleeve on one of my outfits was mysteriously torn, a problem she suggested I remedy by cutting the garment's sleeves in half.  (I suggested cutting her payment in half, which for some reason she found less feasible)  The argument ended in tears on my part, and dreadful guilt on hers.  "You're like my daughter!" she tried to reassure me, as I sobbed into a wrinkled dinner napkin.  "I promise, I'll fix the dress!"

There is no dessert in Alexander's school lunch.

Although having to eat a school lunch at all is pretty awful, I may have poor Alex beat even here.  After visiting the tear-inducing tailor, I ducked out into pouring rain.  I would compare the rain to taking a shower, except that I've yet to come across an Indian shower that can mimic that kind of pressure and intensity.  There was already water up to my knees in the lane.  I stood under an eave, water dripping off my nose, until I saw a cycle rickshaw driver coming towards me through the downpour.  I said, "I'm looking for an auto."  He offered to take me to the Ring Road, where, drenched, I swiftly realized I wouldn't catch an auto since the entire Ring Road was an oasis, and all traffic had stopped.  Instead, I took refuge under the awning that had been set up over a local subway station.  This proved to be a poor plan, because the construction workers from the next-door site had all had the same idea.  The next hour felt like an outtake from a women in prison film, with the workers seeking any excuse to push against me in the crowded confines of the tunnel, while muttering things that I couldn't understand.  Eventually, I decided to risk mildew and disease and wade through the ankle-deep water that had accumulated in the bottom of the subway tunnel.  Little furry things swam past my foot.  I emerged on the other side.  At least there were no construction workers there.

The dentist tells Alexander he has a cavity.

After the tides of doom receded, I went to find an auto rickshaw driver.  I eventually found one who was willing to chance the still-clogged roads, for a markup of more than 100% over the meter price, to take me to my office.

Alexander bites his tongue.

I arrived at the office to discover that the public relations firm that had promised me an exclusive story in writing had turned around and given the story to other news outlets.  The ensuing fuss involved me, a CEO and my boss, although the PR firm that had done the deed remained mysteriously silent. Why do I work here? I wondered once, fleetingly, as thunder rolled once more outside the window.  I felt like punching someone, but no one was handy.

Alexander has to eat lima beans for dinner.

My portable stove ran out of gas, so I ate cold cereal for dinner.  There was no prize in it, only a few little black bugs I was too tired to kill.

Alexander's mother tucks him into bed, promising that things will be better tomorrow.

Alas, I was tucked into bed by the omnipresent mold spores, and nobody else.  But things were better the day after, so I guess Alexander's mother was right.