It is possible to change a first impression. Just not always for the better!

Guess what I did yesterday?  I sat on the floor of my laundry room and watched the very first load of my brand-new, front-loading washing machine wash my clothes.  CAN YOU STAND THE EXCITEMENT?  I kept watching one particular pair of jeans.  The denim is a light wash and about 10 minutes into the wash cycle still wasn't completely wet.  I was very dubious.  I kept watching.  I didn't believe they would get clean.  It took yet another 10 minutes for them to get fully wet.  Do you realize that I sat for 20 minutes on the floor looking through the glass of a washing machine?  And they say stay-at-home moms have no life!

I'm not sure if you remember from a couple of weeks ago when I had the day from hell, well maybe not hell, maybe more like middle school, which could have also been named hell for all the hell I went through and some of the hell I caused.  But I digress. My point is I had a bad day.  Which probably, in hindsight, wouldn't have been quite such a bad day except I was tired.  So. Very. Tired. I was anxious about the kids starting school, had a major checklist of things to do, hadn't slept in about four days and hadn't washed my hair since I last slept.  And I was PMS'ing.  I felt gross, I looked gross and I had pretty much wiped out my emotional reserves.  And then my washing machine broke.  In the middle of washing a duvet cover and sheets while the tub was full of dirty soapy water.  I completely broke down.  Like fell to the floor crying hysterically broke down.  I called Hugh at work and cried/yelled, "Just tell me what to do!  JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DOOOO!"  That day was the day I had set aside to do my 5 loads of clothes laundry and then had the added surprise of an extra three loads of bedding thanks to an accident in the night that was attempting to be covered up.  I hadn't even got to the clothes yet and school was starting the next day.  We needed clean underwear!

I got off the phone with Hugh, calmed down, and before starting to bail the water out of the machine went to check on the kids, who were playing outside. They were standing on the trampoline eating cookies I hadn't given them talking to the neighbour girl over the fence.  Wearily and with a very irritated tone in my voice I asked them what they were eating.  The neighbour girls mom answered from her back deck, "uh...cookies?"  I then realized her daughter was probably eating cookies and the kids either asked or she offered to share and the mom was just trying to be nice.  "Should I not have given them cookies?" she asked.   I broke down again.  Standing on my deck still wearing pajamas at almost noon with my greasy hair scraped roughly into a ponytail I broke down.  Like couldn't talk, ragged-gasping-for-breath-between-sobs, kind of broke down. It took me several minutes to get myself together enough to explain all the while my neighbour was asking if I was okay, if I needed help.  I was finally able to tell her about my washing machine and she so kindly offered to let me rinse the duvet cover and sheets in her washing machine.  "In fact," she said. "I'm going out this afternoon, I'll just leave the door unlocked and you can come and go as you need and do all your laundry here." Thank you God. Talk about a saving grace! 

She has only been my neighbour for about six weeks and that's twice she has rescued me now.  Between the hysterical crying over the laundry on Thursday and locking my keys in my house and having to take her car to get the kids to their first day of school on Friday I'm sure she thinks I'm completely stable!