Fuck The Ides Of March.
Jesus Christ on a popsicle stick.
And I mean it.
Ever have one of those days where everydamnthing is just ten times harder than it needs to be? That was today. I started out annoyed, but now I am just laughing every time something else goes wrong. It's reached the point of comedy. See if you don't agree.
It began at midnight last night. The neighbor's dog started barking and would. Not. Shut. Up. Of course, Mr. Asshat is on one of his unclefucking field trips to the land of nine-fingered people, and has just left his dog outside in the miserable Oklahoma drizzle for more than 24 hours.
Added to this, Sargon decides that it would be a wonderful time to practice his teacup chihuahua impression by twitching at high velocity in his sleep.
I. Got. No. Sleep.
At six this morning, I collapsed, and slept for four hours. Four. Hours. Whereupon I rose, since my body hates me if I don't take my stupid thyroid meds at the same time every day, and then eat an hour later. As I was cooking, Sargon came home early, only I didn't hear the door, and I nearly sliced my finger into the bell peppers. I think the shriek was audible in Iceland.
So Sargon came home sick and promptly collapsed, leaving me to do all the things he was going to do today. Like clean the cat box. Only there was no litter, so I had to go to the grocery first.
While I was out, I decided, I would drop by the clinic and have them draw blood for another TSH test, since my energy levels have been sucky, and it's about time for a retest. I get there, and they're gone for lunch. I decide to go to the store in the meantime, since I have more than an hour to go.
Construction prevented me from leaving the clinic by the usual route, and I was almost run over by a giant white van on the way out, and in turn, I almost ran over a pedestrian walking with a spread-open phone book on her head, trying to dodge the rain on the way to the bus stop.
Traffic on the way to the store was atrocious. It took me ten minutes to drive two miles, which is forever in this town. That does not even bring into the equation the morons with whom I had to share the road.
When I walked into the store, I immediately noticed that it was black as the ace of spades in there. A power outage had blitzed all the lights, the refrigeration, and every register but one. I gather my groceries in the dark, avoiding the troupe of shoplifting thugs, and migrate to the front of the store, where the line stretches off to the event horizon. At last, the lights come back on, and I reach the front of the line. Since the self-check is closed, I had to use the actual person, a by-god cashier, but I had the credit card, which is not in my name. Doesn't matter if I'm dealing with a computer, but people tend to be confused, as I never took Sargon's last name. Come on. Mrs. Naamah The Terrible? Get real. That's even sillier than Sargon Darling.
I have to run it through twice, and then the power flickers and fucks the credit card machine up completely, causing a five-minute delay. The line grows ever longer, and these people are getting mean. At last, a manager appears, and she recognizes me. She finally just waved me through, but not before several years had been deducted from my life by the hateful stares of the people behind me. And it wasn't even my fault.
At the clinic, mercifully, nothing goes wrong, unless you count having blood drawn. On the way home, however, pain sets in, and it felt as though someone had driven a silver spike into my elbow, with darts of pain going clear down to my thumb. This has never happened before.
I get home, change the cat litter one-armed, shelve the groceries, and go to check on the animals, only to find I've lost another snake. Granted, he'd been sick since we got him, but it still fucking sucks.
Today I also: dropped a whole Tupperware container of baby carrots on the dirty kitchen floor, overcooked my chicken, broke a bowl, stubbed my toe, got a bloody nose from dry sinuses despite the extreme drizzle outside, and was clawed by all three cats in less than half an hour. The dog threw up on the floor, everyone and their monkey's uncle called me on the phone today while I was in the car, within a ten minute period, and I also ran out of toilet paper while I was on the toilet. Twice. Livejournal ate an entry, my word processing program spazzed out on me nearly losing me two hours' worth of editing, and I lost my left shoe for more than twenty minutes, only to find it under the very shirt I thought I was wearing.
According to the clock on my phone, in fifteen minutes, this day will be over.
I am going to sit here, waiting for the clock to tick over. I am not going to move until it does.
And I'm backing up this entry, just in case.
link
And I mean it.
Ever have one of those days where everydamnthing is just ten times harder than it needs to be? That was today. I started out annoyed, but now I am just laughing every time something else goes wrong. It's reached the point of comedy. See if you don't agree.
It began at midnight last night. The neighbor's dog started barking and would. Not. Shut. Up. Of course, Mr. Asshat is on one of his unclefucking field trips to the land of nine-fingered people, and has just left his dog outside in the miserable Oklahoma drizzle for more than 24 hours.
Added to this, Sargon decides that it would be a wonderful time to practice his teacup chihuahua impression by twitching at high velocity in his sleep.
I. Got. No. Sleep.
At six this morning, I collapsed, and slept for four hours. Four. Hours. Whereupon I rose, since my body hates me if I don't take my stupid thyroid meds at the same time every day, and then eat an hour later. As I was cooking, Sargon came home early, only I didn't hear the door, and I nearly sliced my finger into the bell peppers. I think the shriek was audible in Iceland.
So Sargon came home sick and promptly collapsed, leaving me to do all the things he was going to do today. Like clean the cat box. Only there was no litter, so I had to go to the grocery first.
While I was out, I decided, I would drop by the clinic and have them draw blood for another TSH test, since my energy levels have been sucky, and it's about time for a retest. I get there, and they're gone for lunch. I decide to go to the store in the meantime, since I have more than an hour to go.
Construction prevented me from leaving the clinic by the usual route, and I was almost run over by a giant white van on the way out, and in turn, I almost ran over a pedestrian walking with a spread-open phone book on her head, trying to dodge the rain on the way to the bus stop.
Traffic on the way to the store was atrocious. It took me ten minutes to drive two miles, which is forever in this town. That does not even bring into the equation the morons with whom I had to share the road.
When I walked into the store, I immediately noticed that it was black as the ace of spades in there. A power outage had blitzed all the lights, the refrigeration, and every register but one. I gather my groceries in the dark, avoiding the troupe of shoplifting thugs, and migrate to the front of the store, where the line stretches off to the event horizon. At last, the lights come back on, and I reach the front of the line. Since the self-check is closed, I had to use the actual person, a by-god cashier, but I had the credit card, which is not in my name. Doesn't matter if I'm dealing with a computer, but people tend to be confused, as I never took Sargon's last name. Come on. Mrs. Naamah The Terrible? Get real. That's even sillier than Sargon Darling.
I have to run it through twice, and then the power flickers and fucks the credit card machine up completely, causing a five-minute delay. The line grows ever longer, and these people are getting mean. At last, a manager appears, and she recognizes me. She finally just waved me through, but not before several years had been deducted from my life by the hateful stares of the people behind me. And it wasn't even my fault.
At the clinic, mercifully, nothing goes wrong, unless you count having blood drawn. On the way home, however, pain sets in, and it felt as though someone had driven a silver spike into my elbow, with darts of pain going clear down to my thumb. This has never happened before.
I get home, change the cat litter one-armed, shelve the groceries, and go to check on the animals, only to find I've lost another snake. Granted, he'd been sick since we got him, but it still fucking sucks.
Today I also: dropped a whole Tupperware container of baby carrots on the dirty kitchen floor, overcooked my chicken, broke a bowl, stubbed my toe, got a bloody nose from dry sinuses despite the extreme drizzle outside, and was clawed by all three cats in less than half an hour. The dog threw up on the floor, everyone and their monkey's uncle called me on the phone today while I was in the car, within a ten minute period, and I also ran out of toilet paper while I was on the toilet. Twice. Livejournal ate an entry, my word processing program spazzed out on me nearly losing me two hours' worth of editing, and I lost my left shoe for more than twenty minutes, only to find it under the very shirt I thought I was wearing.
According to the clock on my phone, in fifteen minutes, this day will be over.
I am going to sit here, waiting for the clock to tick over. I am not going to move until it does.
And I'm backing up this entry, just in case.
link