Don't Cry Over Spilled Coffee

What a day!

God must have given me an extra dose of patience when I woke up this morning!

So far, we've had two doctor's appointments, two changes of clothes, a jaunt through the pouring rain, and a spilled cup of coffee.

Not just any coffee. Starbucks coffee.

A Christian comedienne I like is Anita Renfroe. She has a bit about Starbucks where she says, "In my family, we call it Fourbucks, because that's how much it costs to go there."

Today, I may as well have thrown four bucks in a puddle on the street and driven right through it.

This afternoon was my annual girly exam. No fun. I have begun a tradition in which after such unpleasant medical procedures, I reward myself with my favorite Starbucks poison. (Grande Raspberry Mocha without whipped cream, for those of you who must know!) I drank a little bit of it in the car on my way to pick up Lancelot from the babysitter.

I stayed and chatted with the babysitter who happens to be a good friend of mine for awhile. Had I left her house 5 minutes earlier than I did, I would have avoided a great deal of unpleasantness. As I was walking to the car, baby and diaper bag in hand, the heavens opened up and spilled forth. Torrentially. Babysitter offered me the use of her umbrella so Lancelot would not get wet. She offered to let me keep it for awhile so I could get into my house nice and dry. I took her up on the offer.

If I declined the use of the umbrella, I would have avoided about half of the unpleasantness of the day.

Once I arrived home (well, to the parking lot of the apartment complex that is,) I was very happy to have the umbrella. I very precariously propped it up between my shoulder and the roof of the car as I bent over to release Lancelot from the chair of torture, er, I mean the carseat.

My cup of Fourbucks, still nice and warm and waiting to be enjoyed, was also on the roof of the car. Big mistake.

I bent over just the wrong way, and the edge of the umbrella knocked the cup of coffee over. Of course, it couldn't knock it towards the back of the car or the opposite direction from me. It came, much like the rain, spilling forth on top of me. Coffee spilled on my shirt, my jeans, the diaper bag, Lancelot, and all over the backseat of my car.

I rushed inside, ripped off Lancelot's onesie and my shirt and tossed them in the washing machine so hopefully the stains won't set.

Murphy was giggling. A lot.

I managed to save the last few sips of my Fourbucks, so once we were both in dry, coffee-free clothes I was able to enjoy a portion of my reward.

Sigh. What a day!