I spent a lovely summer day visiting with old friends, hiking on the AT, and 5-Factoring at the gym with my husband. The only wrinkle was dealing with a certain elderly, mostly harmless, non-blog-reading family member who shall remain unnamed, but happens to be the mother of my spouse. I call my DH the Human Valium. Which is good because the Unnamed, when wound up like one of those jittering toys that jerks around on your tabletop, definitely spikes your requirement for the benzodiazepines.
Today's drama revolved around taking her car to the shop. I am the appointed person for this task and to date I have never failed to perform, though one terrible day I did drive past the driveway before remembering and turning around, passing it off as "Just wanted to turn around first!" Unnamed reminded me several times about today's appointment. DH was tense enough to write the date on the calendar, set the alarm for me, and call me from work to wake me up in time. I was already awake, had it written on my hand (I've never forgotten to do this even once, mind you, though one time she slept through DD age 5's pick up time from kindergarten by half an hour, but I digress). I appeared at 8:10 for an 8:15 appointment bright eyed and able. We agreed that the shop closed at five and she would call to tell me when the car was ready so I could get her "at your convenience, it doesn't matter!" At 3:30 the car was ready. By 4:05, when I called her back, there were three messages on my various phones and two at my husband's office. She had already made arrangements with the garage to pick her up "because I couldn't find you and I didn't think you were coming!" I retrieved her up at 4:10 to find her visibly put out, with that tightlipped severity which clearly states I had screwed up badly by not being actively at the phone between 3:30 and 4:05 so that she could receive my personal assurances that I would pick her up and get her to the garage on time.
Since I don't actually have any benzodiazepines, it took me a while to wind down-- the more so, of course, because you can't say anything to anxious elderly relations: they just are, like weather. She passed her wigging out onto me and I passed it back down the line to my husband (only fair). I think it's finally dissipated into the atmosphere by now, but if you find yourself feeling keyed up, extra guilty, or irrationally ticked, it's probably my mother in law's car that did it.
PS I got a slowish walk in on the AT today (goal 2) and I had steak and vegetables for dinner (3). And I logged (1).