Bloody hell, it's Monday
This morning, I had an extremely chic event to attend in one of the city's finest hotels. So, I woke up very early, did not walk the dogs, did not go to college (had two classes this morning), and faced over an hour of several traffic jams in order to cross the entire city, from the poor part to the extremely-rich-way beyond-your-imagination part, wearing clothes that, though neat and pressed and OK, don't hold a candle to the hotel or to the clothes of the extremely chic women who attend this sort of events, wearing make-up I'm not entirely comfortable with, in order to attend said event.
When I arrived there, I found out that my boss sent me in the wrong freaking day. Today, the press is not allowed in the frigging place.
Did I mention I spent 90 bucks in cabs? I wasn't kidding when I said I had to cross the entire city.
So, I took a deep breath, returned to the office (class was lost anyway), grabbed myself a cappuccino and some bread and started working.
And then I spilled cappuccino on my keyboard.
It's not even noon yet. And it's definitely a Monday.
*must think about House later* *must think about House later* *must think about House later*
When I arrived there, I found out that my boss sent me in the wrong freaking day. Today, the press is not allowed in the frigging place.
Did I mention I spent 90 bucks in cabs? I wasn't kidding when I said I had to cross the entire city.
So, I took a deep breath, returned to the office (class was lost anyway), grabbed myself a cappuccino and some bread and started working.
And then I spilled cappuccino on my keyboard.
It's not even noon yet. And it's definitely a Monday.
*must think about House later* *must think about House later* *must think about House later*