Epic Fail

Last week we persuaded our daughter to go to a youth club.
To her disgust, it was a youth club for young people with autism.
Despite this, she had a fabulous time and came home buzzing.

Roll forward to this week.
I forgot all about the Club.
How?
Despite the contact detail form being on the sideboard in the hall all week.
I forgot.
I only remembered long after DH had departed in the car.
Epic. Parenting. Fail.
Total. Disaster.
Worst. Thing. I. Could. Have. Done.
Muppet.

I have given her all the wrong messages
and undone most, if not all,  of what was achieved last week.
Argggggggggggggggggggggggggggh!
Meanwhile, the contact form mysteriously disappeared from the hall.

I decided to start making the invitations to the Afternoon Tea Service in April.
First, the decent table cloth needs to be removed, in case I set fire to it.
(You didn't think cardmaking was tame, did you?)
Before I managed to clear the table, I knocked over the vase.
OOps!
I go and hang the sodden tablecloth on the line.
The KHT was attempting to mop the table,
whilst holding items she had taken off the table.
Unfortunately, she wasn't actually holding on to everything.

CRASH!

My gold Yankee Candle candleholder slides ungracefully onto the floor and shatters,
scattering pieces across the kitchen floor.
"Wow!" though I, "I didn't realise that was ceramic..."
The KHT is horrified.
It is beyond repair.
I sweep up and bin the remains.

Fortunately, I was given a very nice candle holder for my birthday and the remaining Yankee Candles SHOULD fit in there.

The security light comes on.
There is a strange ginger cat in the garden.
I open the door and growl.
With feeling.
The cat disappears.
I sweep up, searching for minute shards of the candleholder.

The contact form finally and reluctantly reappears.
For some unknown reason, it has undergone a baptism by immersion.
I dry the form.
"Worse things happen at sea," I remind myself.