BY SARAH NIGBOR Freaky Friday

Aren’t Fridays supposed to be one of the best days of the week? This past Friday had me wanting to hide under the blanket and pretending I wasn’t an adult.

As I wrote about before, my mother and I had a garage sale. Thursday night we opened and had quite a bit of success. I was frankly surprised by what sold the best. It never fails, the things I think won’t sell in a million years go first. Back to freaky Friday. It also never fails that whenever we have a garage sale, the weather is terrible. Friday was a taunting, teasing day filled with slight drizzle and pe riods of sun peeking. We never knew if we should haul everything inside or wait it out. Finally, at about 3 p.m., the heavens opened and the floods came while I was picking my daughter up from school. We knew we had to hurry to get back to my mom’s to help her get everything inside. I prayed she was able to get some things in before the storm struck.

We had to stop at Carolina’s dad’s house so she could pick up a few things. Trying to hurry, she came rushing out the door and promptly slipped and fell on the rain-slick steps, landing right on her tail bone. I heard the crack from the car and jumped out into the monsoon to see if she was okay. She was in a lot of pain and howling her displeasure accompanied by crocodile tears. I felt terrible for her, but an ice pack, Grandma’s fussing and Ibuprofen soon had her smiling again.

When we got to my mom’s, she was frantically trying to cover tables with tarps, which wasn’t working too well as the wind whipped. She had hauled in some of the clothes, so not all was lost. While Carolina went inside to tend to her tail bone, Mom and I scurried back and forth with armloads of items, getting soaked to the bone. By the time we were done we had 11 loads of wet laundry to do, soaked clothes, rain-plastered hair and a sour outlook. I despise being out in rain (no, I’m not a witch and I won’t melt). If there is ever a drought, I will just schedule a garage sale. You’re welcome.

After I soothed myself with some hot couee and Carolina comforted herself with Grandma’s new kitten, we headed home to recover for the next day. But rest was not to be. It was nearly 10 p.m. and I was exhaust ed. Carolina was a grump due to her injury (I don’t blame her). Neither one of us was in the mood for unruly animals or household disasters.

We came home to find our sewer had backed up into the basement and it stunk to high heaven. Thankfully, Shane had wetvacced the mess but the odor still lingered. We are waiting for our plumber to come (hopefully this week), but like everyone, they are short-staued and overwhelmed. Our puppy, Trapper, was a nutcase after being in his kennel for a few hours. He ran around the house like a chicken with his head cut ou, barking his Beagle/Bassett baroo and tormenting the cat. We have our small bath- room blocked ou, because that's where the litter box is and we don't want Trapper sam pling the delicacies. I suddenly heard paws hitting the tile and found Trapper had hurdled his way into the bathroom, scattering litter all over the place. He looked overjoyed at his accomplishment and I wanted to scream.

After cleaning up that nightmare, I sank onto the sofa as Carolina sat in my recliner. We heard a pop and a screw flew out to God knows where; without that piece of metal the chair wouldn’t recline. It was stuck. I knew Shane would be thrilled to get this news. Luckily, his football team (he coaches the Baldwin-Woodville Blackhawks) was in the process of defeating Rice Lake in overtime, so he was in a good mood while fixing the chair the next day. Next thing we knew, we heard a "scree scree scree” shrieking from the steps. My heart hammering in my throat, I leapt up and ran to the basement stairs. I looked down and there was my beloved cat Snuggles, with a live mouse wriggling in his mouth. Gross! I picked the cat up, who had the mouse firm ly clenched in his teeth, to carry him outside when the dog leapt up, snapped at the mouse and sent it flying down the hallway straight into my bedroom, the cat hot on its trail.

At this point, I broke down bawling, mostly from fury. What else? I thought. Mice, cat crap, backed up sewer, soaked garage sale items, a bruised tail bone. I felt like a filthy mess and just wanted to take a shower, but couldn’t due to the aforementioned sewer fun.

Next Friday, I'm staying in bed. At least I had couee filters.