typical day at the station

It was not supposed to be my day off.  All my tools were still at work.  i wanted to take off tomorrow when she was coming home.  By ten o'clock i was bruised, bleeding, with arms full of fiberglass, had thrown out two deceased drills, borrowed a third with which i had drilled straight through a wire, arcing the bit and forcing me to try and repair it in the dark.  i only have one way of making sure it's the right circuit breaker that i have off, see aforementioned statement about tools being at work. i haven't gotten one thing done and this was one of the easy tasks.  i'm coughing up a lung, battling the urge for arson and curling up in the fetal position sticking one thumb firmly in my mouth and balling the other into a fist that i shake at the heavens, crying to God, 

"Why?  How in the name of all that's holy and good, does this enter into the Plan???"