My mama told me, there'd be days like this.

Van Morrison neglected to mention days like Tuesday. If he had, perhaps I'd have stayed in bed and I'd still be able to feel the fingers on my right hand.

You know you're having a bad day when.

You back out of your (Very steep) driveway and hear a thud. You turn around to see what you hit, but don't see anything. It's pouring with rain, you're almost 20 minutes late (I am never late. For anything. Enough to set my mood afoul). Hesitantly back up again. Hear a scraping noise. Some idiot put the Council bin where it ought not have been. On my driveway. Inspect damage. A graze along the back bumper. It looks pretty bad, but it'll be ok with a cut and polish. Crap.

Drop Sam off at Jo's house, plan to be back at 11 to get him, then take her kids so she can duck off to the Dr. All ok. Just have to do some work (fundraising) at the school, should make it with time to spare. Don't plan on being there too long today, have a thumping headache and have spent faaaar too many hours at school this past month.

Walk down to tuckshop to see P&C Scretary, Treasurer and the tuckshop convenor. All good friends of mine, and we're working together on a couple of things we have on the burners at the moment. Girls mention that the AGM meeting notice still hasn't been taken down from the noticeboard. I have a set of keys, so offer to go do it.

Idiot.

I put the key in and remember thinking Wow, this board is getting a little worse for the wear. Looks like the wood is starting to rot. Might talk to Scott (The school Groundsman) about it.

I had not, in fact, even finished that thought, when the entire front section of the noticeboard (double glazed glass plates, each too heavy to be carried by one) came crashing down, on top of me.

Not good. I caught most of the impact on my right shoulder and wrist, I guess. The glass, somehow, didn't break. I lay underneath these enormous pieces of glass and tried to work out what the hell had happened.

Anyway. Got it cleaned up. Took everything down from the board and threw all of the posters and rusted tacks in the bins.

Made my way to do some photocopying (just love having to run off a thousand notices to be distributed ASAP) and getting nothing but attitude from the teachesr in the library. Found myself strangely close to tears, and could not stop shaking.

Two hours later, it's time to go get Sam. Head back to the girls and dig in my bag for my car keys. My only set of car keys (and, for that matter, house keys and the only set of P&C keys). Nothing.

Searched the tuckshop. Searched the library. Searched the car park. Not there. I know I had it when I opened the noticeboard, because those keys are on the same keyring.

Searched the office, searched the staff room. Searched the P&C Office. Searched OSHC.

Nothing still. Starting to worry. Call Jo. Might be a few minutes late. Everyone somehow(?) finding it amusing that my ONLY car keys are missing, and I'm late to get my son.

Two hours later, with my by this stage in a swirl of panic, anger, embarrassment and desperately trying not to cry, found them. At the bottom of the big recycling bin at the front of the school. Where we'd thrown the pieces from the noticeboard.

Got Sam, dealt with my own babysitting duties. Joel called as I was driving and for some reason, I started to cry. And couldn't stop. I cried as though some unspeakable tragedy had befallen me, and found myself simply unable to get a hold of myself. I had to pull the car over as I sobbed into the phone, my understandably concerned husband called his boss and told them he was on his way home.

I got home at 2, (3 hours later than I'd told my houseguest I'd be home). I had no sooner walked through the door when the phone rang. It was the school. Apparently they'd practically had to draw straws to see who got stuck with making my day worse and telling me Alexander had had an accident (there are reasons one should not run in a school library. One might get pushed into a huge projector screen and one might get a nasty gash above one's eye. One might have found it worth it for all of the cuddles and the ice cream one got on the way home. Hmmf. Noone got me icecream!). own. He's put his back out, so between us all, it's not pretty. ;)

Then, as Joel was taking good care of me, he picked up Sam, and let out a cry of his
So. Here's the moral of the story. Don't join the P&C. If you do, don't be an exec. And if you do, don't for the love of all things holy, let them give you the keys to the noticeboard.