So Much For That 400th Post...
I woke up and fell back asleep. Wasn't late, but wasn't early, either.
It happens.
Today just didn't...feel right. It was different. I wore my flannel pajama pants and some fake Uggs (cause I'm that kind of person), and drove to school. The heat in Old Blue didn't quite kick on until I pulled into the student lot, so I had a hard time ripping my frozen fingers from the steering wheel.
It was a lot colder than I expected, so I dug out a sweatshirt from the backseat (vowing once more to someday own a vehicle with a WORKING trunk). My EHS sweatshirt smelled like Dale, which breathed some kind of hope back into my soul. What the hell, I thought, let's do this. I plastered a fake smile to my face and stepped out of the car.
And left my keys in the ignition.
Thankfully, I remembered the keys halfway across the lot and went back for them. Not to hate on Old Blue, but half of the EHS student population calls it the "most ghetto" car on the lot. I'm proud of that. But because of her problems... who would want to steal her?
Dad says i'd be surprised, but oh well. I'd be sad if she was gone.
ANYWAY...
I wasn't feeling good in first period. I put my head down and listened to my statistics teacher, thinking more about how I thought I was going to hurl. I thought second period would make me feel better (it often does), but when I walked into band we weren't playing today. We were trying on concert dresses.
Fine.
So I tried one on and thought it was hemmed. (I had to hem mine last year... it was a bitch X 1000) But when I took it off and looked at the inside, someone had used DUCT TAPE. I laughed, but knew Mrs. L had told us 100 times over last year NOT TO TAPE IT. It leaves glue on fabrics, especially black. (Seriously, who doesn't know the rules of residue for duct tape?) So I'll have to hem it Sunday.
After band, I decided to call it quits. My stomach feels like someone punched me, and so I just walked out.
I went to Chick-fil-A, chilled at home, and took a deep breath. It's going to be a busy week. Therapy...new job...jazz band...
Did I mention the new job?
Yeah, you're reading up on the pathetic life of a brand new Hardee's cashier. Spent about 40 dollars on black shoes and black pants, but I get a free clean shirt everyday (generously provided by OTAC Inc.), a free baseball cap, a flimsy plastic name tag, and all the water I can drink.
All for a glorious $7.50 an hour. Part time.
I'm not complaining though. I don't care if it's minimum wage; at this point I am so desperate for cash that I would lick floors for $7.50.
Well...I'd mop them, not lick them.
That's just weird.
But you get it.
It happens.
Today just didn't...feel right. It was different. I wore my flannel pajama pants and some fake Uggs (cause I'm that kind of person), and drove to school. The heat in Old Blue didn't quite kick on until I pulled into the student lot, so I had a hard time ripping my frozen fingers from the steering wheel.
It was a lot colder than I expected, so I dug out a sweatshirt from the backseat (vowing once more to someday own a vehicle with a WORKING trunk). My EHS sweatshirt smelled like Dale, which breathed some kind of hope back into my soul. What the hell, I thought, let's do this. I plastered a fake smile to my face and stepped out of the car.
And left my keys in the ignition.
Thankfully, I remembered the keys halfway across the lot and went back for them. Not to hate on Old Blue, but half of the EHS student population calls it the "most ghetto" car on the lot. I'm proud of that. But because of her problems... who would want to steal her?
Dad says i'd be surprised, but oh well. I'd be sad if she was gone.
ANYWAY...
I wasn't feeling good in first period. I put my head down and listened to my statistics teacher, thinking more about how I thought I was going to hurl. I thought second period would make me feel better (it often does), but when I walked into band we weren't playing today. We were trying on concert dresses.
Fine.
So I tried one on and thought it was hemmed. (I had to hem mine last year... it was a bitch X 1000) But when I took it off and looked at the inside, someone had used DUCT TAPE. I laughed, but knew Mrs. L had told us 100 times over last year NOT TO TAPE IT. It leaves glue on fabrics, especially black. (Seriously, who doesn't know the rules of residue for duct tape?) So I'll have to hem it Sunday.
After band, I decided to call it quits. My stomach feels like someone punched me, and so I just walked out.
I went to Chick-fil-A, chilled at home, and took a deep breath. It's going to be a busy week. Therapy...new job...jazz band...
Did I mention the new job?
Yeah, you're reading up on the pathetic life of a brand new Hardee's cashier. Spent about 40 dollars on black shoes and black pants, but I get a free clean shirt everyday (generously provided by OTAC Inc.), a free baseball cap, a flimsy plastic name tag, and all the water I can drink.
All for a glorious $7.50 an hour. Part time.
I'm not complaining though. I don't care if it's minimum wage; at this point I am so desperate for cash that I would lick floors for $7.50.
Well...I'd mop them, not lick them.
That's just weird.
But you get it.