living the crazy life

Hope that's put a nice little image of Ricky Martin in your heads for the weekend! I'm having one of those weeks - that started mid-week so I'm guessing it'll end around Wednesday next week. You know those weeks where it seems like the universe is playing one massive mind-game with you? It started with Thursday afternoon. I had a computer induced eye-head-ache, you know, the headache in your eye thingy? So once my daughter came home from school and I fed and watered her I popped on an eye mask and lay on my bed, blinds drawn. Then, I heard this almightly bang and thought to myself, 'wow, that sounds just like a car crash except their was no breaking glass or creaking of metal' and settled down to rest. Until my doorbell rang. Yes, that would be my car, or the rear of it, in all its plastic and non-metalic glory that'd been rear-ended by a little old lady after taking her husband to the Drs. Sigh.

Then today, at netball, I'm there, on the sidelines, encouraging my little team, who're playing their hearts out - and actually in the lead for the first time ever, when an official comes over and tells me there have been complaints that I'm coaching from the sidelines. Me? I apologise, bemused, and ask what constitutes 'coaching from the sidelines' and apparently it involves moving from the one spot and calling any instructions. Which, colour me confused, I don't believe I did. I start looking around for the parallel universe, or Ashton Kutcher, anything, but no. Sure, I move up the sidelines, and yes, I call out, but it's retrospective praise, or the odd "Move in front of your player" kinda thing. Obviously the other team aren't used to losing.

So then I stand, frozen, mute, watching my team - and the opposing coach cruising up and down the line, calling out instructions, standing and coaching under the goal posts. And I fume. Silently mind.

After the game I approach officials and ask for a little more clarification and am left as bemused as ever. C'est la vie. I've asked the coaching official at my club exactly what I can and can't do and will just have to shrug and move on. My main goal is for the happiness of my team. If they never win it won't bother me - but I know that they'd love just one win - just once before the end of season. They'll get there.

You know why all this is happening don't you? Hubby's away and I've got a witchy-poo pimple on the end of my nose, and another right on the bridge so that every time I look left, there's a pimply obstruction in my view. Is it possibly for anything to go right at a time like this? Oh, did I mention the whole PMT scenario?

I'm trying to get over it - after all, these are just teensy irritations designed to let you see how good your life normally is. I've washed my hair, my gal's invited her bestest bud over for a sleepover and we'll do nails, go out for gourmet burgers, pop corn and watch a DVD. Then, once they're in bed, there'll be a hot chocolate with my name on it.

Tomorrow's another day.