The No Good, Terrible, Really Wonderful Bad Day

"I'm having a bad day."

Those words, coming from my husband Dan, never fail to strike fear in me. What he really means is that since he's having a bad day, my own day is about to become a whole lot worse. I think there must be some fine print in the marriage vows which states that both spouses should suffer equally. If he's down, he's going to drag me down with him.

I resisted the urge to tell him that a "bad day" is when your toddler paints his crib rails with poop, or the 6-year-old projectile vomits red Twizzlers all over the light-colored carpeting. A bad day is when the dog lets you know she's having stomach troubles by leaving smelly piles of awfulness all around the house.

Anything else is merely a distraction.

I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with Dan. If my day was going to become dramatically worse, I at least wanted to be well-caffeinated for it.

"It's only 6:30 a.m. What could possibly have happened this early? You're not even out of the house yet!" Of course, I asked this in my most understanding voice.

"I don't know what happened. I was on the computer, and all of a sudden, the screen went black. I can't get it to come back on. I think it crashed."

Wait....what? The computer? My WORK computer?Crashed?

On a scale of bad days, this trumps poop-painted crib railings. A computer crash is a tragedy of epic proportions and means that I'm destined to have a bad day all by myself, even without my husband's help. How will I work? How will I check my email? How will I find out what my friends are up to on Facebook?

Once Dan left for work and I'd gotten the kids off to school, I sat down at the computer to see if I could revive it using my most technologically-advanced computer technical skills: I wiggled the mouse. Nothing happened. I tried unplugging it and plugging it back in. Nothing happened. I even said a Hail Mary, hoping for some divine assistance. Still nothing happened. The computer was as dead as dead could be. My lifeline to the interwebs was officially cut and I wasn't at all happy about it.

I phoned the office to let them know that I wouldn't be able to work until my computer was fixed and then sat for a moment to ponder my situation. Here I was, all alone in the house and unable to work. I suddenly had an unexpected day off with nothing in particular to fill it.

I didn't know what to do. With no work projects, email, or internet lures to compete for my time, I felt lost. Am I really so addicted to technology that I can't find something to do now that I'm without it?

I made another cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. A male cardinal was feeding three baby birds outside the kitchen window, a sight I would have missed had I been in my office on the computer. Now, with no schedule to obey, I was free to watch the birds as long as I wished.
When I grew tired of bird watching, I went outside and pulled some weeds, surprised by how peaceful and relaxing weeding could be early in the morning.

For lunch, I took the time to make myself a healthy meal and savored it, rather than gulping down something at the computer while I worked.

I took the dog for a walk. I painted my toenails. I took a nap. I even caught up on some long-neglected reading.

When Dan came home from work, he asked if I was able to fix the computer.

"No, it's still dead. I think we may need a new one."

"That's terrible! You must have had a really bad day."

I thought about the different ways I'd spent my unplugged and unexpected day off.

"Actually," I replied with a smile. "It wasn't bad at all."