Hey, Pretty

There was a message in my inbox on Facebook this morning, a nice number 1, which I assumed would be from one of the usual suspects, asking for a playdate with Freyja, or wondering if I could help find a babysitter, but instead it was a message from a stranger that said "Hey, Pretty, how are you doing?".

I am well past the age of being flattered or skeezed out by this sort of unexpected attention, and instead,  thought to myself, You talkin' to me?

I told the very nice man that I was indeed doing just fine, but I thought he might have been looking for someone else, and that I was curious how he saw my photo, since I thought I had made my security settings pretty private, then I deleted his message and went to bed.

It was a pleasant ending to a long and annoying day.  I had planned to help my friend Kimberly make a bunting banner for her wedding, since she is not crafty, or a sewer.  I had also signed up to bring food to a friend that is recovering from major surgery.  Since I had all of that to do in the evening, I ask my mother to come over and let the gal that helps me clean in, while I was at work.  This woman has some mild special needs, and would require my mother to answer questions and generally guide the process.  I thought that would be simple enough, but when I returned home, my house looked as though no one had been there, which was very stressful, because I had all these commitments and now I would have to mop and vacuum too.  So I cleaned up and checked in with my mom, who said that Lynn had been there, but that they had had some communication problems and I am still unclear on how things went. 
I had to get off the phone and get cooking, which I did, and made a big pan of pad Thai, which came out perfectly, if I do say so myself. 
So I was feeling pretty good again, but then my mom called to remind me that she had made an appointment for Maxwell for the chiropractor, and I reminded her that he was at camp and taking a bus home at rush hour and that making a 5:00pm appointment was not very wise. 
Then Kimberly arrived to go to the fabric store and my mom phoned two more times and Maxwell still didn't walk in the door, and I started to get very stressed out, and screamy. I felt exactly like Henry Hill at the end of "Good Fellows", except without the cocaine and police. 

In the end Maxwell did arrive, and Kimberly went with me to find the house of the mother of the sick friend and the pad Thai did get delivered and the bunting is cut out (but not sewn up).  So I guess things will be ok.
I have to work today, which is not awesome, but it is, what it is and I am coping much better this morning, so far.