FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFff
I gulp down some yogurt and a couple spoonfuls of left over fried rice and throw on my clothes at the same time. What is Max doing? He tells me to wake him up five minutes before we have to leave, because he thinks all he has to do is roll out of bed and drive me to work. This is bullshit. It takes his ass a good 30 minutes to get anywhere in the morning. Regardless, I wake him up at 9:35 and tell him we had to go (work starts at 10:00).
I’m trying to cut soft drinks out of my diet, so I microwave the water for the iced tea I make every morning, 9:40. I look in the bedroom. Max hasn’t even gotten dressed and seems to be leisurely getting ready. I get the tea done and I’m ready to go at 9:45, a little late for my comfort. Max is finally getting his shoes on and we don’t leave until 9:50.
My key chain breaks on the way to the car. I scoop up the broken pieces and say “Going to be late, I’ll worry about it later.” He has the nerve to say “Stop panicking, you’ll get there when you get there.” I desperately fight the urge to smack him, or explain to him what “responsibility” means. Because he won’t take the main road we get stuck behind a train. I look at my clock, 10:00. Officially late. I actually start to panic.
10:10, I finally get to work, run inside main building, and find out I don’t have my wallet with me. This should have my ID, the only way into the office, inside of it. I stare past the glass walls that I cannot enter woefully but don’t see a single soul there to let me in. I call Max, who is on his way back home, and ask him if he could bring me my wallet. He mentions I also left the tea in the car, but he can bring it back when he brings me my wallet. I glean a small amount of hope.
He calls me from home, says he found the wallet but no ID. After I’ve emptied my purse twice there is still no sign of the ID. Ten minutes into the conversation (10:25) I reach into a mostly empty pack of Orbit gum so that I can ferociously gnaw on something, and find that somehow beyond my explanation the ID had become wedged inside the pack of gum. Max laughs, hangs up the phone (presumably to go back to bed, the bastard) and is entirely indifferent to the fact I am now walletless and drinkless until 6:00pm.
Conclusions: Working on Saturday morning sucks, I will physically throw Max’s iMac out of the window if he keeps me up past midnight ever again, and I am really thirsty.
Want. T_T
I’m trying to cut soft drinks out of my diet, so I microwave the water for the iced tea I make every morning, 9:40. I look in the bedroom. Max hasn’t even gotten dressed and seems to be leisurely getting ready. I get the tea done and I’m ready to go at 9:45, a little late for my comfort. Max is finally getting his shoes on and we don’t leave until 9:50.
My key chain breaks on the way to the car. I scoop up the broken pieces and say “Going to be late, I’ll worry about it later.” He has the nerve to say “Stop panicking, you’ll get there when you get there.” I desperately fight the urge to smack him, or explain to him what “responsibility” means. Because he won’t take the main road we get stuck behind a train. I look at my clock, 10:00. Officially late. I actually start to panic.
10:10, I finally get to work, run inside main building, and find out I don’t have my wallet with me. This should have my ID, the only way into the office, inside of it. I stare past the glass walls that I cannot enter woefully but don’t see a single soul there to let me in. I call Max, who is on his way back home, and ask him if he could bring me my wallet. He mentions I also left the tea in the car, but he can bring it back when he brings me my wallet. I glean a small amount of hope.
He calls me from home, says he found the wallet but no ID. After I’ve emptied my purse twice there is still no sign of the ID. Ten minutes into the conversation (10:25) I reach into a mostly empty pack of Orbit gum so that I can ferociously gnaw on something, and find that somehow beyond my explanation the ID had become wedged inside the pack of gum. Max laughs, hangs up the phone (presumably to go back to bed, the bastard) and is entirely indifferent to the fact I am now walletless and drinkless until 6:00pm.
Conclusions: Working on Saturday morning sucks, I will physically throw Max’s iMac out of the window if he keeps me up past midnight ever again, and I am really thirsty.
Want. T_T