The phone kept ringing, interrupting my rainy day plans with one wretched piece of news after another. The second phone call was from the new PTA president who was supposed to lug home the files and obligations after I explained it all. After getting a promotion at work and learning she is pregnant with #3, she doesn't feel she's able to take over the responsibility of leading the Happyland Elementary PTA.
A few phone calls later, no one else is stepping into the gap.
I conceded to do all the beginning of the year stuff, so as not to leave the organization in the lurch. But at the first meeting I'll announce the seat is still open and as I'm sending all 3 of Team Testosterone to parochial school, someone else has to take the reins.
The day continued in a downward fashion after that. Except for my hair. That continued to frizz and spiral outward from my scalp in a weird, witchlike sort of way.
Rainy day bliss?