I hate being on call for work. There! I've said it. I feel cleansed.
My day started at 1:30 this morning. I had a page from a driver, which stated, he couldn't be back in time for a run that started at 4:30am. I immediately called him back at the number he provided. It went straight to voicemail preventing me from voicing my concerns on his choice of whereabouts, which were not in a bus. Who on Earth would I be able to call at that time of the morning to drive a bus? I know if I heard the phone ring at that hour, I'm probably going to the old country because grandma died. I managed a solution, but it wasn't resolved until 330.
I think the view outside my window pretty much sums up my day.
Rainy, dark and cold looking.
Rebel was even tired from all the craziness, and he is a nocturnal creature:
Napoleon didn't want anything to do with any objects that vibrated or made any noise. (OK, that may sound bad, but you know what I mean). He barricaded himself in the washroom:
I have had to re-knit my socks:
I had finally gotten to the part where I start the heal. I was delayed by my mother's cats who found that 200 yards of yarn was perfect to wrap around the dining table, the television, go outside, and around a hedge. I had to unwrap it all and begin again because in my frustration of the day, I had lost too many stitches to pick up. The ones I managed to keep were way too tight to work with.
These little objects are the source of my tension for what was supposed to be a restful Sunday:
My Sunday is now over and I wish you all a wonderful night.