How to Deal With Cranky Me

In my constant quest for perfection of the House on the Corner, I'm eyeing the upstairs bathroom as my next victim. The vanity was old when we moved in 30 years ago and the white paint I slopped on it during a "remodel" a couple of decades ago was clearly lipstick on a pig. I'm not interested in buying a vanity at Lowe's, though, because that would be way, way too straightforward. What I want to do is convert a piece of old furniture into a vanity (reference: 10,000 Pinterest pins).

In order to complicate the process even more, rather than buy the old piece of furniture in an antique store Husband and I made arrangements to meet a lady who was selling a dresser on the local version of Craigslist. We were to meet her in the Wendy's parking lot at 6 p.m., and had cash in hand.

She did not show up.

Well, that's disappointing, but all is not lost. Let's get a salad at Wendy's, since we're right here literally at their doorstep and I do love an Apple Pecan Chicken Salad. When we got inside, though, the Power Mediterranean Chicken Salad was even more appealing. Hummus! Feta cheese! Power!

We stepped into the line of four customers. Then we waited. After 10 minutes, Husband checked his watch.

"Want to go somewhere else?" No, I wanted a Wendy's salad. "Are you sure? We could walk over to Taco Bell." NO. I WANT THAT DAD-GUMMED SALAD.

So we waited some more, 24 minutes from the time Husband first checked his watch. By then I was hungry, mad at the woman who didn't show up with the dresser, and ready to lash out at someone.

And then we got our food. My salad was frozen. Also, it had no recognizable hummus, so I did what any redblooded American person would do: I posted my displeasure on Facebook. "If anyone is planning to eat at Wendy's tonight, be sure you have plenty of time. Holy cow," I wrote.

We got home and there was a message waiting from the dresser lady. "I'm sorry I missed you," she said. "We've been traveling to Big City Hospital every night to see our preemie grandson and I'm exhausted." I felt terrible for being irked that I had spent ten whole minutes waiting for her.

Then this morning my e-mail had a message from the Wendy's manager, and apparently we had stepped into a cascading set of problems--he had stepped away from the counter to deal with an issue, the sandwich girl was in only her second day and was confused, the cash register malfunctioned and began sending pick-up window orders to her line and she was even more confused, everything was going south. He apologized and asked what they could do to keep me as a customer.

Once again I'm reminded that often the things that irritate me are only symptoms of issues that are so much larger than my inconvenience. A sick baby. A new employee who deserves some slack-giving.

Lady With the Dresser, I'll see you tomorrow at our rescheduled time. Mr. Wendy's Manager, you've kept me as a customer.

My Frosty is raised to both of you.