Asian Keng and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend

Simply because I have nothing of intellectual interest to post, it's been a week since my last one (and readers are clamoring), and also because I really do have a cornucopia of material, I hereby publish my Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Weekend.

Saturday morning I had signed up for a housing loan program, to last all morning, held downtown. I had a long list of materials I had to bring, not the least of which included old bank statements, W2 forms, tax papers, pay stubs, copies of my social security card and driver's license, etc. The workshop started at 9 and so I woke up at 7:30 to give myself plenty of time... only to realize that I had consolidated all of said materials in a folder, nicely organized and labeled... and left at work. I scrambled trying to find copies of said forms online (no go) and a way to copy my social security card and driver's license (thanks, Jo) and printed out what I could. Cranky and breakfast-less, I cruised along following my Mapquest directions, only to miss the 295 south exit and get myself entangled in southeast DC. Not a great idea. A few harrowing moments later I found myself in the appropriate spot. It was a non-profit organization and bless their hearts, we were forced to sit on flimsy plastic folding chairs (the precarious Ikea kind) for three hours, the first of which was spent waiting in line to sign up for a personal consultment to actually apply for the loan. Which means Monday November 20, I have to go back. Hour two was spent listening to a great evangelical loan officer talk about how important it was to pay bills on time, and the third a rapper wannabe real estate agent talk about "it's a buyer's market yo, a buyer's market..."

My morning wasted, I hurried to the supermarket to buy groceries for dinner I was making that night. I found a sweet parking spot by the door and was even offered barbecued pork chop samples on my way in (gotta love a brand new megastore's marketing ploys) and soon made my way back out. As my car was on quite a slant, I was forced to hook my hand through my cart to load my groceries. Around me waited three cars stalking my spot and pinning me in, and in a hurry to finish I flung the cart away from me as I shut the trunk... with my fingers still entwined. I seriously thought I had broken my thumb. Luckily I didn't, but it is still quite blue and swollen. Thank heavens for opposable digits.

The afternoon was spent running errands and purchasing all sorts of sundry items, leaving the dinner-making time a little short before the spectacular stake production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat that night (thank you, Cabeza, for a highly entertaining five minutes). I made a casserole of sorts, and during cleanup I grabbed a frying pan I had left on the stove. The heat radiating from the 400 degree oven, however, had saturated the pan and burned the inside of my hand from stove to sink. 45 minutes later as I went to remove said casserole from oven, the very same hand hit the rack and I now have a one-inch welt that most likely is never going to go away. It is pustulating as I type. I mourn the loss of my perfect right handed skin.

Joseph was great though.

Sunday is our usual Sabbath and I had a few girls coming over after church for a small 'visiting teaching' gathering. That morning I got up super early to re-attempt my delicious chocolate chip pumpkin muffins and continue my baking streak. That afternoon post-church the muffins went in the oven... and the ensuing lively conversation drew me away and consequently burned them. No matter, I had only time to rush off to choir practice for our annual Washington DC Interfaith Concert, and then rush home again to prepare for the huge "International Dinner", with delectable dishes from all over the globe trotted out in full glory. I whipped up my infamous "Spicy Tofu Delight" and on my way out the door was interrupted by a phone call "Have you left yet? We're having a birthday candle emergency. Bring birthday candles. Oh, and matches." Back inside for birthday candles. And matches. Second attempt out the door -- "Have you left yet? We're out of plates! Bring paper plates!!" Third attempt out the door and seriously late this time. Upon reaching my destination I realized the dish had leaked all over my passenger front seat (when will I learn to put my food on the floor?), but no time, the dish was hurried inside. And they had plenty of plates.

Oh, it's not over yet.

Monday morning I got in my car to run my various errands, and discovered that not only had the dish leaked on the passenger side, but apparently when I lifted it up to ascertain the damage (it was dark and windy and rainy the night before), it had sprayed (literally, sprayed) ALL over the driver's side, and consequently all over my pants. Bright. Orange. Chili. Oil. All over my driver's side. With a sigh of resignation I told myself I would find a car shampoo... sometime. Morning errands run, I drove to the metro to go to school. As I perused the aisles looking for a spot, I found one squeezed inbetween a Toyota Corolla and a ginormous van. As the spots were labeled "COMPACT" I seriously doubted the validity of the van's self-actualization as a normal sized vehicle, much less compact. As I pondered the conundrum, eyes on the van, turning into the spot, I completely crashed into the Corolla and took off a chunk of its bumper.

Yep.

My conscience would not let me simply drive away, so I left a sheepish note with my phone number; the owner of the car was surprisingly prompt in returning the call with the ominous phrase of "I'll take it into the body shop and get an estimate and let you know how much it will be..."

And this takes us to Tuesday. Please, please, please let this be a better week... I am about to attempt a drive through downtown DC. Let the fates be with me I implore...

...So what's the terriblist, horriblist, baddest, worst day you've ever had?