A Really Bad Day

Some days I think I'm the Invisible Man. No one sees me. I move room-to-room, picking up dirty clothes and tripping over backpacks while my teenagers continue their quest to set the world's record for posting the most Instant Messages before answering their mother. Just before breakfast a neighbor comes to the door and my daughter tells her, "Mom's not around. I think she went to the movies." This coming within a commercial break of my yelling at her to get moving.

I try sulking and pouting. Once I curled up in a ball in the middle of the floor hoping one of the kids would fall over me. Visions of sorrowful children gently lifting me to my feet, fighting over who would get to scrub toilets, filled my head. They just stepped over me. Another time I cried. The Big Guy told me to take something for my allergies.

As much as I love wallowing in self-pity, I've now given it up, thanks to the delivery guy from Happy Dragon restaurant in New York. He delivered an order to a high-rise in the city and got stuck in the elevator. For three friggin days. He screamed and pounded but no one came. For three friggin days. The building had a security guard on staff and video cameras operating but no one saw or heard him. For three friggin days. He pushed the emergency call button but no one came. For three friggin days. What, did everyone in the building decide to take the stairs? For three friggin days?!!

To top it off, he didn't have any food or water. He had just dropped off his last order of the day before getting into the elevator.

Mr. Delivery Guy, I feel your pain.