I Need Help

I really need to listen to my own advice from yesterday. I found myself, this morning, on the verge of tears over a couch delivery. Ok, so not exactly a couch delivery exactly, but it was kind of the straw that broke the camel's back. And now, I'm not mad about anything except my own stupidity.
Let me give you a little history before I confess all my sins. First, I think I've made it clear that I'm always at home during the day. Always. I babysit and I have two little ones of my own and I'm always here. Always. Always. I rarely have time to do much of anything during the day, and that includes showering unless I do it before the other kids get here, which isn't usually possible, because I'm getting Avery ready for school.
I also rarely schedule errands or appointments for when those kids (just kid, singular, now that I let one go) leave because, by then, it's time to pick Avery up from school and it's a pain in the boo-tay to take all three of my kids anywhere. Any grocery store trips, doctor's appointments, or "me" time is scheduled when Aaron can be home.
But Monday, I decided to be proactive about our financial situation and take a bunch of my clothes to the local resale shop. I cleaned out my closet, loaded all the stuff in the back of the car, loaded up my kids, picked up Avery and Lilly (our carpool friend), dropped Lilly off at her house, got my kids ice cream so they wouldn't fuss, and drove to the resale shop. When I got there, there was a note on the door saying that starting THAT VERY DAY, they wouldn't be accepting anything until May 5. Lovely. The one day in several months that I decide to drop off is the day they stop accepting clothes. Come on! Give me a break!
(You are going to want to punch me as I keep going, because the bitching is WAY worse than anything that has happened to me this week. And I know this, and yet, I cannot stop.)
Yesterday I had a scheduled pick-up from the Salvation Army. They were coming to get our couch, a desk, the mattress, and some bags of clothes. They were supposed to call before they came. Ok, so it's 10:05. The baby is down for his nap and Rhett and Reese are watching Dora. Time for a quick shower for me. I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair when Reese came in and said "Mom, the doorbell is ringing!" Oh, come on!
I turn off the water, put on my robe and run to the door. I am naked under the robe, I am dripping wet and there is still a bit of soap in the back of my hair. There are two men at the door, ready to pick up the couch. I weakly state to them, "Someone was supposed to call." They tell me they are running early today. Okey dokey. They come in, get the couch. I stand there, horrified that I am nude with strange men in my house, dripping wet. I forget to remind them about the desk, the mattress and the clothes, so I'll have to schedule another pick up for those. I was too flustered about the nudity to remember. I know it's stupid, but I was kinda frustrated. I mean, come on. The 5 minutes out of an entire day that I choose to shower is the one time they come to pick up the couch? Come on.
So whatever. Moving on.
Today. Today, Brennon's mom (he's the baby I keep) reminds me that she's picking him up at 12:15. I'm excited, because I need groceries and now I can go during the day instead of either taking all three kids or going after dinner and ending up putting groceries away at 9:00 at night.
I have a flash of genius. I ask my sweet friend, Jennifer, if she's busy. If not, can she keep Reese and Rhett for an hour or so while I shop, so it's more peaceful and quick? Of course she says yes, as she always does. Actually, she said, "I'm glad you asked" which is crazy, because who would be glad to be asked to babysit, but she was. I'm so excited.
Then I see the Haverty's email. Furniture delivery scheduled for today. Woo hoo! Bonus day...furniture AND peaceful, daytime grocery shopping. It's my lucky day. But guess what? The scheduled delivery is between 12:45 and 2:45. The only two hours of the day, week, month, that I've scheduled alone shopping time for myself. Come on!
So I call them. You need 48 hours advance notice to reschedule. Except you can't find out what time they are coming until 24 hours before the scheduled time. How would I know to reschedule 48 hours in advance if I don't know when they are coming until 24 hours in advance? But you know what, I am nice to them. I say forget it. I'll stay home. What kind of a hag would be griping about getting a new couch?
THIS HAG, THAT'S WHO!!! I know these things are stupid, petty, small things, and I hate myself for getting irritated about it. I hate myself even more because I had tears come to my eyes over not being able to go to Target in the middle of the afternoon. It's ridiculous, but COME ON!!!!