A Rich White Girl's Bad Day

This is what a bad day looks like when you're me.

After having my computer at the shop for more than a week, I find out that there's something wrong with the main board. This is very bad. To fix it would cost a little more than half of what a new computer would cost and, in fact, the tech guy does not reccommend it. Apple will offer no help as my warranty expired 3 months ago. They did not seemed phased by the fact that their computer had basically crashed after only 15 months. So my channels for communication, creativity, American television and basic goofing off continue to be cut off.

So then, wanting further Yuppie punishment, I head into the traffic of the west London suburbs, guided by my Tom Tom navigation system, seeking shopping centers where I could find coordinating shower curtain, bath mat and towels that might possibly make a hideous looking bathroom somewhat acceptable for guests. I succeeded only in giving myself a headache fighting traffic and circling roundabouts. Still no bath mat.

My daughter comes home on the bus, makes a beeline for the bathroom and then promptly breaks into tears because she wanted brownies for an after-school snack and there are no brownies (just a note: there are rarely brownies). I suspect that the tears weren't really about the brownies, but have been unable to ascertain their true source. Soon the tears were forgotten as I unveiled the one purchase my shopping trip had yielded--a board game of Battleship. A heated match followed.

There are several items lost in my house that I have been unable to find, and I have ached all day following the "Body Pump" class at my over-priced health club yesterday.

I'm sure the BBC will be calling any day to do a documentary on how I make it through.