Ode to a Broken Toilet Seat aka It MUST be Monday.
Today is already SO full of fail it is ridiculous, and it is barely 8am. Must be a Monday. Super Duper!
Okay, so I feel like in order to impart the sheer enormity of the fail of today, that I need to give this story a titch of back story. So, bear with me.
I house clean in between MA degree applications and the like. So at the moment, technically I have full time job with a House cleaning company. I like the job, it pays well, and thus pays the bills. (aka: submitting applications to Universities for a Masters of Arts degree ALONE is EXPENSIVE) Anywhooooooooooo. That being said, last week was like the smelly armpit of weeks. I had 2-3 jobs EVERY day, making for early mornings, and late nights for ....all....7 days... Yeah. I said SEVEN. My days off ended up NOT happening. PERIOD.
Take today for instance. Sunday and Monday are generally my two days off. And yet, here I am mainstreaming the caffeine. Earlier in the week my boss called me in a panic, she needed me for a emergency clean today for a move out. I thought, hey, no problem, I can take one for the team. I generally do as my bosses are VERY good to me, and in face only a day previous to her calling they had given me another raise, so I was also in a position where it might not have been very good form for me to refuse her a favour. Regardless, I was cool with it. I don't mind helping out.
BUT THEN. SUNDAY HAPPENED. A long time ago I had realized that I wasn't going to get my birthday off so I decied to switch a shift with a coworker. Guess what. I called to confirm with her yesterday afternoon (just because I like being anal and triple checking stuff. Thank god for that) and low and behold, she was out of PROVINCE.
SAY. WHAT?!!!!?!!!!!!!!!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have no idea what happened, but I can assure you we are going to be having words when she returns. What happened if I HADN'T triple checked?! The business workers would have come Monday morning to a dirty office. And yeah, that would have been BAD. Like whoa.
Anyway, I had to halt ALL my birthday plans in the middle and haul ass over to the business I NOW had to clean, at 5pm, and joy of joys, the clean is about a 7 hour job. AWESOME. So. I didn't get out of there till 12am. MIDNIGHT.
By now you might be thinking, OMG. DRIVE HOME AND GO TO BED QUICK. See, that was my general thought process. Only, half way there I get PULLED OVER BY THE LOVIN' RCMP. Awesome. You know that feeling where you might be having a heart attack of fear? Yeah that was me. I have been driving for six years or more and have never ONCE got pulled over. And since I KNEW I wasn't speeding I was like: WTF. CONFUSION. So. I sit in the car as Mr. Police Man runs my plates...or you know just sits in his car and lets me think of all the things I might have done to merit getting pulled over.
Finally, he and his sharp boot heels click across the pavement toward my car. I have all my information handy, and am trying to look my most "upstanding citizen driving at 12am". If the blinding flashlight shoved into my retinas for about 30 seconds was any indication, I suppose I need to go back to acting school. Because he sure wasn't convinced.
He then proceeded to ask me a bunch of questions which I answered quickly by with a growing sense of confusion. He thus looked through my backseat. Which probably didn't look too awesome cause it was full of cleaning supplies and dirty rags. Finally he treats me to another 30 second period of face time with the high powered flashlight that probably could see into my BRAIN and he gave me the "Well you have a great night madam" and he and his boot heels clicked back to his squad car and peeled out of the small parking lot he had directed me into when he pulled me over.
I *headsteering wheeled* so hard I gave myself a headache.
I still have no idea WHY I got pulled over. Especially since I was the only one on the road that was ACTUALLY not speeding. I am guessing he was on the lookout for Drunk people behind the wheel or something. I mean, it was 12am on a sunday. How knows? At the time I was just grateful that I actually didn't do anything wrong.
So. 7am today rolls around and my alarm goes. Super. I have had about 5 hours of sleep if I count GENEROUSLY. I haven't had a day off in 7 straight days, I am as tired as HELL, and now I am facing a nasty day of about 6-7 posts at a move out with 3 other girls. (Which, aka in House cleaner language, if you have that many staff for THAT long, means the house is a shit pit of nastyness)
I stumble out of bed. And like virtually every half awake Zombie I shuffled into the bathroom. Fate however, intervened with that morning ritual. I sat down on the toliet seat and LITERALLY FLEW OFF. Me and my bare ass were rudely, and quite painfully deposited on the cold, hard floor. YEAH. I AM SERIOUS.
(Backstory: I live in a basement flat with another girl, and we both rent from our landlord. My roomate is a bit of a spazz attack and not excatly the sharpest crayon in the box.)
Apperently, last evening, my roomate broke the FRAKIN' toliet seat.
Okay, so, no real biggie right? Craploa happens. But did she leave a note? Did she take off the seat to ensure that something like this wouldn't happen? NO. OF COURSE NOT.
Long story short I ended up wedged between the wall and the toliet seat (which I didn't think was even possible due to the small space between them), my ass and hip splintering in pain and a ginormous bleeding welt on my theigh with skin got viciously pinched with the moving toliet seat.
So. Thats my Monday thus far. I am afaird to hobble off to work lest an ANVIL fall from the bloody sky.
Hows yours going?
Okay, so I feel like in order to impart the sheer enormity of the fail of today, that I need to give this story a titch of back story. So, bear with me.
I house clean in between MA degree applications and the like. So at the moment, technically I have full time job with a House cleaning company. I like the job, it pays well, and thus pays the bills. (aka: submitting applications to Universities for a Masters of Arts degree ALONE is EXPENSIVE) Anywhooooooooooo. That being said, last week was like the smelly armpit of weeks. I had 2-3 jobs EVERY day, making for early mornings, and late nights for ....all....7 days... Yeah. I said SEVEN. My days off ended up NOT happening. PERIOD.
Take today for instance. Sunday and Monday are generally my two days off. And yet, here I am mainstreaming the caffeine. Earlier in the week my boss called me in a panic, she needed me for a emergency clean today for a move out. I thought, hey, no problem, I can take one for the team. I generally do as my bosses are VERY good to me, and in face only a day previous to her calling they had given me another raise, so I was also in a position where it might not have been very good form for me to refuse her a favour. Regardless, I was cool with it. I don't mind helping out.
BUT THEN. SUNDAY HAPPENED. A long time ago I had realized that I wasn't going to get my birthday off so I decied to switch a shift with a coworker. Guess what. I called to confirm with her yesterday afternoon (just because I like being anal and triple checking stuff. Thank god for that) and low and behold, she was out of PROVINCE.
SAY. WHAT?!!!!?!!!!!!!!!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have no idea what happened, but I can assure you we are going to be having words when she returns. What happened if I HADN'T triple checked?! The business workers would have come Monday morning to a dirty office. And yeah, that would have been BAD. Like whoa.
Anyway, I had to halt ALL my birthday plans in the middle and haul ass over to the business I NOW had to clean, at 5pm, and joy of joys, the clean is about a 7 hour job. AWESOME. So. I didn't get out of there till 12am. MIDNIGHT.
By now you might be thinking, OMG. DRIVE HOME AND GO TO BED QUICK. See, that was my general thought process. Only, half way there I get PULLED OVER BY THE LOVIN' RCMP. Awesome. You know that feeling where you might be having a heart attack of fear? Yeah that was me. I have been driving for six years or more and have never ONCE got pulled over. And since I KNEW I wasn't speeding I was like: WTF. CONFUSION. So. I sit in the car as Mr. Police Man runs my plates...or you know just sits in his car and lets me think of all the things I might have done to merit getting pulled over.
Finally, he and his sharp boot heels click across the pavement toward my car. I have all my information handy, and am trying to look my most "upstanding citizen driving at 12am". If the blinding flashlight shoved into my retinas for about 30 seconds was any indication, I suppose I need to go back to acting school. Because he sure wasn't convinced.
He then proceeded to ask me a bunch of questions which I answered quickly by with a growing sense of confusion. He thus looked through my backseat. Which probably didn't look too awesome cause it was full of cleaning supplies and dirty rags. Finally he treats me to another 30 second period of face time with the high powered flashlight that probably could see into my BRAIN and he gave me the "Well you have a great night madam" and he and his boot heels clicked back to his squad car and peeled out of the small parking lot he had directed me into when he pulled me over.
I *headsteering wheeled* so hard I gave myself a headache.
I still have no idea WHY I got pulled over. Especially since I was the only one on the road that was ACTUALLY not speeding. I am guessing he was on the lookout for Drunk people behind the wheel or something. I mean, it was 12am on a sunday. How knows? At the time I was just grateful that I actually didn't do anything wrong.
So. 7am today rolls around and my alarm goes. Super. I have had about 5 hours of sleep if I count GENEROUSLY. I haven't had a day off in 7 straight days, I am as tired as HELL, and now I am facing a nasty day of about 6-7 posts at a move out with 3 other girls. (Which, aka in House cleaner language, if you have that many staff for THAT long, means the house is a shit pit of nastyness)
I stumble out of bed. And like virtually every half awake Zombie I shuffled into the bathroom. Fate however, intervened with that morning ritual. I sat down on the toliet seat and LITERALLY FLEW OFF. Me and my bare ass were rudely, and quite painfully deposited on the cold, hard floor. YEAH. I AM SERIOUS.
(Backstory: I live in a basement flat with another girl, and we both rent from our landlord. My roomate is a bit of a spazz attack and not excatly the sharpest crayon in the box.)
Apperently, last evening, my roomate broke the FRAKIN' toliet seat.
Okay, so, no real biggie right? Craploa happens. But did she leave a note? Did she take off the seat to ensure that something like this wouldn't happen? NO. OF COURSE NOT.
Long story short I ended up wedged between the wall and the toliet seat (which I didn't think was even possible due to the small space between them), my ass and hip splintering in pain and a ginormous bleeding welt on my theigh with skin got viciously pinched with the moving toliet seat.
So. Thats my Monday thus far. I am afaird to hobble off to work lest an ANVIL fall from the bloody sky.
Hows yours going?