This is what we like to call a total system failure
Yesterday morning I got up late and realized that, though I knew I'd run out of catfood the morning before, I had forgotten that I didn't have any cans of tuna left. The cats were unaware of this fact and were wholesale freaking out because "GODDAMIT, woman, where were the noms?" As I said I'd gotten up late, and there was no way to go to the cornerstore, come back, shower, and dress and get to work in time.
Thinking fast I microwaved the last tilapia fillet that I had in the freezer, shredded it and put it in a bowl. The cats looked at me like I was a fucking idiot, but I didn't have time to argue. I showered, wrapped a towel around me, and then realized that I didn't have anything easy and portable for lunch. In fact, due to my absolute REFUSAL to go to the grocery store, I had only one option available to me other than eating cold chickpeas out of a can was pasta.
Pasta which necessitated not only boiling water but waiting for the pasta to cook for at least six minutes. I only had enough gas in the car to get me to work and back so coming home for lunch wasn't an option, nor was buying lunch (see not getting paid until midnight). Sighing and putting the water on to boil, I resigned myself to being late to work for the FOURTH TIME THIS WEEK.
I got dressed while the water boiled, freaked out because the skirt I chose was tight, looked into the living room to discover that the kitten had barfed up some of the tilapia fillet and genuinely contemplated just calling Thursday a wash and going back to bed. In fact the only reason that I DIDN'T is because I would have been stuck in my house all day with hungry cats.
Anyway, I drained and mixed the pasta with some jarred sauce and meatballs, packed my skate bag, realized I had to clean the litterbox and did so, shouted at Elijah to quit bothering me and eat his fish, didn't he know that this was a goddamned treat? and left for work, carrying a skate bag, purse, and a bag of trash that was rapidly tearing and easily could have been taken down last night.
While driving I realized that the interior of my car legitimately reeked. Badly. I realized that I'd left unwashed tupperware in my car to bake, smell, and seep into the fabric for all time. I rolled down the window and started berating myself.
"Candice. Really. Grow the fuck up."
I arrived fourteen minutes late to work, ate a handful of almonds for breakfast, and washed the tupperware. Commence 8 hours of pretending to work. Badly. I don't want to genuinely confess to you how much time I wasted because I want you all to marginally continue to respect me as a person. I also discovered that I'd broken out in multiple places on my face. Despite this and wearing my slightly-too-tight skirt all day I ended up eating a piece of cake, a popsicle, and a cup of hot chocolate by 5pm.
After work I went skating. Skating, at the very least, was still awesome. (God I love you skating.) I got better at backwards crossovers and dreamt about bum-tackling the coach who went to Nationals in pairs (he placed 8th!) and begging him to coach me.
I had pizza and fries and diet coke for dinner. Then I went to Target and bought cat food and chocolate (I hate it when my purchases sum me up a bit... too perfectly). I came home, feeling like I really should be busted down to twelve years old, to a sweltering apartment.
The biggest burner on my stove was on. And had been. All day. For twelve hours.
...
I COULD HAVE BURNED MY APARTMENT BUILDING DOWN AND KILLED MY CATS. PEOPLE. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I FELT AT THAT MOMENT? It wasn't even the OVEN. It was the electric BURNER. Which is exposed to the air and one of the cats could have jumped on the stove (IDK they're bad cats) and BADLY BURNED HIMSELF. And I wouldn't have known for HOURS.
I just. GOOD LORD. ;___________________; Yesterday mangojellytoast linked to an article about innocent, well-meaning people being tragically absent-minded and forgetting that their kid was napping in an unseen car seat and leaving their children to die in a car. That is a MILLION BILLION TIMES WORSE than anything I did yesterday but suddenly I feel like I can never have children. Ever.
Suffice to say I turned off the stove, fed the cats, left my still-stinky tupperware to soak in diluted vinegar, washed my face twice times, and set my alarm fifteen minutes early to compensate for the fact I would be getting gas this morning.
Summary: Candice. GROW UP.
Thinking fast I microwaved the last tilapia fillet that I had in the freezer, shredded it and put it in a bowl. The cats looked at me like I was a fucking idiot, but I didn't have time to argue. I showered, wrapped a towel around me, and then realized that I didn't have anything easy and portable for lunch. In fact, due to my absolute REFUSAL to go to the grocery store, I had only one option available to me other than eating cold chickpeas out of a can was pasta.
Pasta which necessitated not only boiling water but waiting for the pasta to cook for at least six minutes. I only had enough gas in the car to get me to work and back so coming home for lunch wasn't an option, nor was buying lunch (see not getting paid until midnight). Sighing and putting the water on to boil, I resigned myself to being late to work for the FOURTH TIME THIS WEEK.
I got dressed while the water boiled, freaked out because the skirt I chose was tight, looked into the living room to discover that the kitten had barfed up some of the tilapia fillet and genuinely contemplated just calling Thursday a wash and going back to bed. In fact the only reason that I DIDN'T is because I would have been stuck in my house all day with hungry cats.
Anyway, I drained and mixed the pasta with some jarred sauce and meatballs, packed my skate bag, realized I had to clean the litterbox and did so, shouted at Elijah to quit bothering me and eat his fish, didn't he know that this was a goddamned treat? and left for work, carrying a skate bag, purse, and a bag of trash that was rapidly tearing and easily could have been taken down last night.
While driving I realized that the interior of my car legitimately reeked. Badly. I realized that I'd left unwashed tupperware in my car to bake, smell, and seep into the fabric for all time. I rolled down the window and started berating myself.
"Candice. Really. Grow the fuck up."
I arrived fourteen minutes late to work, ate a handful of almonds for breakfast, and washed the tupperware. Commence 8 hours of pretending to work. Badly. I don't want to genuinely confess to you how much time I wasted because I want you all to marginally continue to respect me as a person. I also discovered that I'd broken out in multiple places on my face. Despite this and wearing my slightly-too-tight skirt all day I ended up eating a piece of cake, a popsicle, and a cup of hot chocolate by 5pm.
After work I went skating. Skating, at the very least, was still awesome. (God I love you skating.) I got better at backwards crossovers and dreamt about bum-tackling the coach who went to Nationals in pairs (he placed 8th!) and begging him to coach me.
I had pizza and fries and diet coke for dinner. Then I went to Target and bought cat food and chocolate (I hate it when my purchases sum me up a bit... too perfectly). I came home, feeling like I really should be busted down to twelve years old, to a sweltering apartment.
The biggest burner on my stove was on. And had been. All day. For twelve hours.
...
I COULD HAVE BURNED MY APARTMENT BUILDING DOWN AND KILLED MY CATS. PEOPLE. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I FELT AT THAT MOMENT? It wasn't even the OVEN. It was the electric BURNER. Which is exposed to the air and one of the cats could have jumped on the stove (IDK they're bad cats) and BADLY BURNED HIMSELF. And I wouldn't have known for HOURS.
I just. GOOD LORD. ;___________________; Yesterday mangojellytoast linked to an article about innocent, well-meaning people being tragically absent-minded and forgetting that their kid was napping in an unseen car seat and leaving their children to die in a car. That is a MILLION BILLION TIMES WORSE than anything I did yesterday but suddenly I feel like I can never have children. Ever.
Suffice to say I turned off the stove, fed the cats, left my still-stinky tupperware to soak in diluted vinegar, washed my face twice times, and set my alarm fifteen minutes early to compensate for the fact I would be getting gas this morning.
Summary: Candice. GROW UP.