A plane did not crash into my house last night

Plenty of other things happened, but my roof was untouched by a falling Bowing 737. Why do we need to know this? I’m borrowing a technique from a Marian Keyes’ character. Things seem particularly crappy. Coping method = at least you have been spared a gigantic catastrophe; thereby lessening the crappiness of your own circumstance.
My particular brand of crappiness started in earnest last Friday.

Woke up late. Kids cranky. Torrential rain. Work truck blocking laneway, driver leisurely conversing with neighbour. Late dropping child # 1 to school. New system involves parading parent and child at school office, receive printout with child picture, branded with words ‘unexplained/unjustified’ if suitable excuse not offered. Unexplainedly Child # 2 cried and clung bodily to me at her dropoff. Hugging + platitudes ineffective. Started fitness regime 2 weeks ago. Boxericse this morning. Group trains at park in front of beach. No-one there when I arrive. Resevoirs of will power used to turn up to this class after extreme stiffness and general unfitness of previous session. Could really have used the punching bag.
Escaped polar bear did NOT ram into my car and detach three of my toes.

Went to nearby friend’s café instead. Weeks before had sewn two entire poles with stripy yarn bombing when friends opened the café. One person complained (about the beauty??) Local council (same day) sent worker to destroy knitting with stanely knife. Dangerous footpaths are far less important, apparently. Petition at café bedgraggled and signed by one ‘Julia Roberts’. So many people loved the knitting, commented when I am sewing it. Yet only one other person posted on council Facebook page. Council ignoring posts about destroying public art.
Council worker did NOT explode in flames.

All this before 10am. Blah blah. Day did not improve much. Including deep cut to finger. Fast forward to Saturday.

Single parent struggles to get out of house on day when kids with father. Despite distressed state of house after week of over energetic kids + exhausted mother. Thanks to broken nose and facial lacerations from fall on uneven footpath weeks earlier, have to spend time carefully applying makeup.
Push myself to join new Meetup groups. City centre French speaking breakfast (yay). Time getting kids ready, applying makeup + Saturday traffic = too late to make it.
Flock of flesh eating moths did NOT take up residence in my bedroom.

Try again with Meet up. Apparently happy friendly crowd meeting in city Sat night. Find carpark in city – ‘$9 Night special’ sign flashes brightly on street. After 31 minutes of crawling up, then down 10 floors, is patently clear carpark has been full for some time. Heated conversation with moron who stops car, blocking five floors of traffic trying to escape this concrete hell. Best forgotten about really. Find another carpark. Eventually find bar. Did not find Meetup group. Not answering provided phone number. Barstaff have no idea where they are. Searched 3 levels. Psychic abilities fail me. Go home. That took 3.5 hours. Next day several people who also could not find group loudly ignored by organiser.
Did NOT eat Ecoli-riddled egg roll.

Conclusion. Some days you’re the fly. Some days you’re the windshield.

Thoughts, dear reader?