The ol' door-bell-dog-droppings-on-fire maneuver

That is how the end of my day went:
Like a flaming poo bag.

We've all seen this prank played out in popular media - one vengeful and/or bored character rings their target's doorbell and leaves their stoop-n-scoop surprise on fire on the other character's porch. This person comes to the door, usually in a robe for some reason, and finds flames waiting for them, and they do the natural thing, which is to try to stomp out the flames with their favourite indoor slippers, thus entangling themselves in a whirlwind of smoke and poo.

Of course, that is not literally what happened, but it sure felt like it. Closing up shop with with a fabulous coworker of mine took an hour and a half tonight, which is triple the amount of time it usually takes, due to an unfortunate compunding of errors into what is known as an "untangleable clusterfuck". Even though our sleuthery was admirable and we did figure out the root of our problem with the help of my dear old friend, Mathematics, we were thwarted in the end by Technology (not such a dear friend to either of us, it seems).

Literally TWO SECONDS after that whole fiasco had been dealt with to the best of our collective abilities and we had hugged out our fears about getting fired, my phone rang, the screen displaying a number I was unfamiliar with. Being a FOOL, I picked up the phone, and apparently my face conveyed "instant miserableness". On the other end of the line was the voice of a man who has historically been the source of a great deal of emotional pain and abuse trauma in my life, and who of course is conveniently a very close blood relation. We haven't seen hide nor hair of one another in five years, which was suiting me fine, aside from the occasional pangs of guilt so ingrained in many an abuse survivor. Now he's getting married, and wants me to be part of the wedding party. This sounds like a great set up for a dramatic movie plot, but alas, it is my actual life. Someone must have told him that we can't go zero-to-sixty like that (or rather Denying my Experience to Wedding Party) because he presented the very not-like-him idea of getting together to talk things out before such a huge event. And because I have a VERY difficult time saying "no" to the few people who scare me, the long and the short of it is that I will be eating dinner and "talking about things" with my father and step-mother tomorrow evening. After hanging up, I called back, and while I was unable to stand up for myself in any real way like saying "no" or "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but this terrifying idea is for me extremely unhealthy, convoluted, oversimplified and massively FUCKED UP," I did manage to let them know that I am no longer a vegetarian, in hopes of at least getting some amazing spicy chicken or beef curry out of the deal.

Blargh.
Thank goodness my day starts out with going back into counselling, followed by an unrelated event potentially involving mimosas.