You have no idea how much I wish I were exaggerating.

This was my day yesterday – Actually, the problems started on Wednesday, so let’s start there.

Wednesday, July 28 – Sent e-mail to certain family members asking them to stop talking about my sister behind her back, essentially. I may have been a little condescending, but it was getting really out of hand, and my sister -- who has admitted her actions in the past were wrong and has apologized, which is really all I ask for, admitting your mistakes – was really hurt by their actions. Receive e-mail back from my uncle. He was a douche, basically. Saying things such as, “Let the games begin!” ad naseum. Because apparently, for him, super traumatic things going on in your niece’s life = awesome chance to revel in her misery to avoid your own craptastic problems. He’s a peach.

Wednesday evening – Get phone call from my sister. Grandma is in the hospital again for blood pressure issues. Later that evening, she was released, but it’s still scary considering she had a stroke at the beginning of the month.

Thursday morning – Have blood drawn for tests pending my referral to a rheumatologist for fibromyalgia. The phlebotomist doesn’t hurt me one bit – initially. She removes the needle from my arm, after taking about four gigantic vials of blood, then says, “Oh, shoot, I forgot one.” She then proceeds to jam the needle back into the same spot, trying to use the same vein. She can’t get it in the vein, but she tries REALLY REALLY HARD, by wiggling the needle all around in my arm. I finally suggest she use the other arm. She agrees. Now both arms have holes in them and Band-Aids on them.

Go to work after blood draw. Get out of car, place purse on shoulder. Get thumb stuck under purse strap on shoulder. This happens because my purse weighs approximately 85 pounds. remove thumb from under purse strap. Unfortunately, thumb doesn’t go quietly, it slips out quickly, causing me to – and I’m not joking here or exaggerating a bit – punch myself under the chin, full fist (WTF? Why was I making a fist?), which caused me to bite my tongue. HARD.

Finally get into work. Have a temporary custody hearing. It’s sad and reminds me of certain people in my life that I’m very worried about. I have a massive breakdown during a break, and still haven’t recovered when we go back in, so I spend the rest of the hearing hiding my face by looking down and letting my hair fall over the sides so no one can see me, and congratulating myself on not being lazy and actually blow-drying and flat-ironing my hair that morning so I could wear it down.

Lunch (uneventful).

Come back to work after lunch. Get text from my sister that our uncle has “un-friended” her on Facebook. Chat about how we’re not 5, and that’s completely asinine. Then check my friends on FB, only to realize that he has also “un-friended” me. Awesome. Make a mental note that this uncle has always been kind of a douche; this is not a recent development.

4 p.m . Thursday – leave work. Get home, chat with neighbor in driveway for 20 minutes or so. Haul Ellie, her carseat (which she is no longer in), and a few other things strategically placed in the carseat, into the house.

Vader, the cat, manages to run out while I’m trying to maneuver my way in. Try to place Ellie in her walker so I can run outside after dumbass cat. Her leg folds at the knee, so her foot is all the way back by her butt. I get the other leg through the hole, but the folded leg is stuck. Try to lift her out. She is stuck. LIKE REALLY, REALLY STUCK. Complete with crying, screaming, and me panicking a little bit because, WTF???? It took me a minute or two to actually get her out.

Meanwhile, neighbor’s husband knocks on the door. I open it when I finally get Ellie out of the aforementioned Walker of Doom. Neighbor says, “Um, you know, your cat got out.”

Yeah, I know.

Run outside to find dumbass cat. Hand Ellie to neighbor. Catch cat just as another neighbor’s golden lab rushes toward him, presumably to take a large bite out of his backside. Little did he know, there are two much heftier cats inside who would make for a much more satisfying meal.

Finally get myself, the stupid cat, and Ellie back inside. Am sweating like I just ran the Bix (for those of you out-of-towners, the Bix is a 7-mile road race here in town that attracts professional runners from around the world). I have never ACTUALLY run the Bix, but I’m positive this is exactly what it’s like.

Get my clothes changed (because, yeah, I was still in my work clothes, heels and all, when this shit went down). Get Ellie into a new diaper. Walk back out into the living room to find a gigantic pile of cat puke courtesy of the dumbass cat who had been outside.

Scream loudly, but on the inside.

Clean up cat puke. Just as I’m throwing away the papertowels and washing my hands, Phoebe, the fattest cat of them all, immediately throws up. TWICE.

Scream even louder on the inside.

Call Brian. Tell him I give up on life for today. He takes me out for margaritas. The end.

BTW, my tongue still hurts, my uncle still isn’t talking to me, and I’m still pretty pissed at the cat.