(no subject)
I woke up in a great mood on Monday morning. Slightly sleep deprived, but looking forward to the week ahead. My, oh my, how that attitude has since changed. Things keep going wrong and my horoscope is telling me to "work from home". If only that were a viable possibility, dearest stars.
Since Monday various things have just gone wrong, perhaps in spite of my optimism for the week. Monday morning started out fine, hardly any traffic, and not a lot of Seneca work to accomplish this week. My coworker comes in a horrible mood (she is menopausal so this happens) and is generally miserable for most of the day until she leaves early. She had reason to be miserable though; I gave her H1N1. So I guilt tripped on that until I had to pick up material from a in-class training session I ran over the weekend at the conference centre. On the way back, the trolley of supplies spilled twice on a kilometre journey from one side of Seneca campus to the other. About 15 students walked by me on the second spill before some one offered to help. Karma, please reward this kind soul. I was close to tears by the second spill as it happened right in front of the bus stop on Finch avenue, and consisted mostly of expensive overheads, exams, and about 500 pens/highlighters/calculators. Great.
I left work and became stuck in traffic on my way to print my final photos for a class on Wednesday. Black's in Ajax has a great track record, less than an hour, true colour prints, but my guy wasn't there and the girls refused to print for me. "uh, we don't do that? Uh right, Karen?" "right, turn around is about a week..." No, you just didn't want to help me. I saw the printer printing out 12 X 18s. Ugh.
So I went home, defeated, and started to write an essay. I was in a bad mood, nay, a foul mood. Dinner only escalated as my brother continued to be a right shit to my family. I ended my night by taking two gravols at 8:00 and passing out hard by 9:30.
This morning things were great until I reached the kitchen to make tea to accompany my 20 minute long sojourn of light therapy. I was met by my brother downstairs who proceeded to yell at me about how this is his kitchen time, that I'm in his way and ruining his life, that I'm the most inconsiderate person on the planet. Right Chris. I don't get high by myself at 2 in the morning, eat all the food in the house, cause my mother to nearly have a nervous breakdown, and sleep all weekend. You're almost 19. Grow the fuck up you little piece of shit. I can't stand the sight of him anymore. I've always had a strong dislike for my brother; we bump heads over almost everything and he is far too easily influenced and swayed by people (he wants a Che Guevara tattoo. For the sole reason that he likes Rage Against the Machine. Idiot). I call him out on his bullshit, his stealing, his lying, my dad knows about it, but my poor mother is in total denial over everything and trying to help him is nearly killing her.
I leave the house once again in a foul mood because Chris has fucked up everyone's morning routine by having a 25 minute long shower. The traffic pops on as soon as I turn to 680 news. Two accidents on the 401 westbound in practically the same area in both collector and express lanes. Great! I get one exit before stopping. I bale at the second exit and take Sheppard. This was great until I hit construction. WTF CITY OF TORONTO. WINTER IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO DO ROAD REPAIRS. THE MORNING COMMUTE IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO DO ROAD REPAIRS. HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE? I sit in traffic for about 20 minutes before I reach a main artery that connects to Finch Ave. I get stuck behind a bus and change lanes. I stuck behind Slowy McSlowerson. IS THERE NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD?
And now I am here. In a foul mood. I have to leave early and miss pay to get to class on time and print photos. At least I have a chocolate danish.
FUCK THIS WEEK.
Since Monday various things have just gone wrong, perhaps in spite of my optimism for the week. Monday morning started out fine, hardly any traffic, and not a lot of Seneca work to accomplish this week. My coworker comes in a horrible mood (she is menopausal so this happens) and is generally miserable for most of the day until she leaves early. She had reason to be miserable though; I gave her H1N1. So I guilt tripped on that until I had to pick up material from a in-class training session I ran over the weekend at the conference centre. On the way back, the trolley of supplies spilled twice on a kilometre journey from one side of Seneca campus to the other. About 15 students walked by me on the second spill before some one offered to help. Karma, please reward this kind soul. I was close to tears by the second spill as it happened right in front of the bus stop on Finch avenue, and consisted mostly of expensive overheads, exams, and about 500 pens/highlighters/calculators. Great.
I left work and became stuck in traffic on my way to print my final photos for a class on Wednesday. Black's in Ajax has a great track record, less than an hour, true colour prints, but my guy wasn't there and the girls refused to print for me. "uh, we don't do that? Uh right, Karen?" "right, turn around is about a week..." No, you just didn't want to help me. I saw the printer printing out 12 X 18s. Ugh.
So I went home, defeated, and started to write an essay. I was in a bad mood, nay, a foul mood. Dinner only escalated as my brother continued to be a right shit to my family. I ended my night by taking two gravols at 8:00 and passing out hard by 9:30.
This morning things were great until I reached the kitchen to make tea to accompany my 20 minute long sojourn of light therapy. I was met by my brother downstairs who proceeded to yell at me about how this is his kitchen time, that I'm in his way and ruining his life, that I'm the most inconsiderate person on the planet. Right Chris. I don't get high by myself at 2 in the morning, eat all the food in the house, cause my mother to nearly have a nervous breakdown, and sleep all weekend. You're almost 19. Grow the fuck up you little piece of shit. I can't stand the sight of him anymore. I've always had a strong dislike for my brother; we bump heads over almost everything and he is far too easily influenced and swayed by people (he wants a Che Guevara tattoo. For the sole reason that he likes Rage Against the Machine. Idiot). I call him out on his bullshit, his stealing, his lying, my dad knows about it, but my poor mother is in total denial over everything and trying to help him is nearly killing her.
I leave the house once again in a foul mood because Chris has fucked up everyone's morning routine by having a 25 minute long shower. The traffic pops on as soon as I turn to 680 news. Two accidents on the 401 westbound in practically the same area in both collector and express lanes. Great! I get one exit before stopping. I bale at the second exit and take Sheppard. This was great until I hit construction. WTF CITY OF TORONTO. WINTER IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO DO ROAD REPAIRS. THE MORNING COMMUTE IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO DO ROAD REPAIRS. HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE? I sit in traffic for about 20 minutes before I reach a main artery that connects to Finch Ave. I get stuck behind a bus and change lanes. I stuck behind Slowy McSlowerson. IS THERE NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD?
And now I am here. In a foul mood. I have to leave early and miss pay to get to class on time and print photos. At least I have a chocolate danish.
FUCK THIS WEEK.