Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades

I had a bad, terrible, awful day yesterday. If you had seen me during the day, you probably would not have even noticed. You probably could have sat on my shoulder all day, and never even realized what a terrible day I had. Some days are funny that way.

I told a friend I would do her a favor.

I missed it.

This is where I justify it. This is where I say that no one was hurt. This is where I explain that I missed it only by a little bit. This is where I say that it was sincerely an accident. (It was). It happened once before. (I am always at my worst around her. She dropped off my son once after a play date and I was upstairs vacuuming and did not hear the door. Andrew appeared in front of me and I had already missed my chance to say ‘thank you’. What are the chances of me vacuuming my upstairs at all, much less when someone happens to be at the door??). This is where I explain that I often do too much. It is a flaw of character that I have fought for years. I would go on here to explain how I called right away and apologized profusely. I did. I left a message that wasn’t returned.

In the end, though, it was still my fault.

I saw her today. She stood ten feet away as I lingered with a mutual friend. I was holding George and had Gladys at my feet, but I called her name. I apologized, in a clear voice, across that ten feet of space.

She said that she wouldn’t let it happen again. She wasn’t going to go for a third time. She held up two fingers and walked away.

I was wrong. Someone did get hurt.

I am truly sorry.