The Word for Somethign on Again Off Again
I knew it was going to be a bad/weird/inconvenient/foreboding/awry/inadequate/abominable/atrocious/___________ (synonym for terrible) day.
How did I know?
I simply KNEW, OK ?
Starting time. I woke upwardly at 3:33 to lightning crashes. Unfortunately, non this type:
I would have been ecstatic to wake up to some Live. With Ed Kowalczyk singing about placentas dropping to the floor and mothers dying, how could I have an awful day?
Nope. I woke up without my Ed. I looked out the window and could not see the Sears Tower. "Ugh. Kickoff globe problem. I am going to have a bad solar day."
I tried to go back to sleep. Merely I simply couldn't. The lightning kept sneaking by my eyelids and waking me.
Whimpering and muttering four-letter words under my breath, I attempted to put my pillow over my head. For some reason, I really like sleeping with my pillow on my face. [Notation – this usually forces me to wake upward in a panic, then I am not quite sure what I notice so appealing about it].
Not fifty-fifty smothering myself could tempt me to sleep.
I started getting the ever more upset. I violently (and after many a endeavour) kicked off the covers, stomped to the window and screamed to the Sears and the Tempest Gods, "WHY ME?!?!"
Jumping back on my white potato bed – starfish style – I felt empowered and quickly dozed by off to sleep.
Until information technology was 6:30. My Meringue warning went off. Annoying me. Reminding me I still could not run across the Sears, lightning will sneak past my eyelids and I will be walking to piece of work in the rain.
I turned back to the pillow over the caput. With 10 minutes of hot breathing into my ain face. I threw off everything, violently checked my phone, aggressively answered texts and stomped into the bath.
In the shower – I was already upset because I was showering – the rage-o-coaster slowly climbed up the steep embankment. My hair annoyed me, shaving annoyed me, face washing annoyed me. Getting out, I tried to think of how clear my peel looked today and feel better about myself. I skipped into the living and went to connect my pod to the speakers, thinking a little "Good Morning" could cheer me up.
Until I almost cruel over on the wet spot coming from my soaking hair. I muttered something and decided wet spots were not conducive to early morning dancing.
Looking to the clock, I realized that I had about xx minutes to get set.SHRIT.
….
Finally fabricated it to piece of work. I barely trounce the general security line. Turned around to give the people waiting one of these:
Saw my co-worker and she asked if I forgot an umbrella. Which meant merely i thing, I looked like this:
I put my head downwards and just grumbled, "I simply got out the shower." Apparently, my sweaty-face was mode out of control. I rode the lift non-chalantly. Got to my desk-bound, looked at my Obama coaster –
– nodded to the human being and started changing from my Reebok Classics to my heels when another co-worker asked me if I forgot an umbrella. Keeping my caput downwards, I once more grumbled, "I just showered. I know I have sweaty-confront. Merely exit me lone. If you pretend it isn't there, it volition get away in xv minutes."
….
Afterwards preparing a xx pages worth of presentation notes for my young man interns – on the only virtually noteworthy of news, of course – I decided to add my list of hotties into the mix. I thoroughly explained the listing IS MY OWN. MY OWN Stance. Sadly, one-half did not know who I was talking about. And and then I got arguments about Kanye and the ranking of D. Rose and "what, no Evangeline Lilly?"
NO!
No Evangeline Lilly. For i) Who is named Evangeline? 2) I hate Lost. 3) "It'due south my list!"
Pouting I read horoscopes. Fifty-fifty my horoscope was a bummer. I think it read – "Stay inside you filthy creature."
….
After lunch I had to run to the banking concern to get a cashier'due south cheque for hire on my new apartment and then to the post role to overnight said check and charter rider. Hurrying to the banking concern, I found out they were out of cashier's checks. "Wait, similar the physical checks?" "Yes, we cannot actually write one here. Effort Dearborn and Monroe. Sweaty face."
Turning on my heels, I threw up my arm as a good day and shuffled out trying to make it the five or and then blocks to the bank, and then to the post office and work with only ten minutes to spare on my dejeuner break. Notation: IN HEELS.
Then I hear, "YOU".
SHRIT.
"It is just like I learned most with Marxism. Finally the State has named me. It has identified, I volition never be an private anymore. BUCK. Please officer, I am but trying to make it. I promise I will allow you proper name in a few years. Just allow me be at present."
Nope. Non a police force officer.
Just a dude with a ukulele trying to get me to transport money to and write kids. Seriously dude, I tin't assistance now. Give me a brouchure or something.
Nope.
"You will be a superhero if you just sign up."
Nope.
I come across the walk sign light upward. My eyes low-cal upwardly. I see my get out. I put up my right arm as a goodbye and blitz across Jackson. I promise, I will save kids another day. Because who doesn't desire to exist a superhero?
…
Cashier check in hand. Sweaty-face in bank check. I brand information technology to the Post Role where they try to get me to employ TECHNOLOGY to transport mail. WHAT? I CAN'T LEARN THIS NOW. I AM ALREADY LATE. Only Let ME HAND Y'all MY STUFF AND Accept You lot Post IT. IS THIS Not HOW OUR RELATIONSHIP HAS BEEN FOR 20-THREE YEARS NOW?
Nope.
"Ma'am please use the auto."
Fine.
"Sorry ma'am, the auto you are using won't print your stamp." Oh good. "Hither stand behind this guy, I will walk you through it."Oh good. "At present, Take YOUR RECEIPT."Ok, I whimper.
….
Phone shift.
….
Abode: No postal service.
….
Dinner: Contemplating whether to take the elevator, walk out the door and the twenty steps to Jimmy John's or have them deliver because I am blogging (duh); I remember. TODAY I Constitute OUT JIMMY JOHN (HIMSELF) DONATES Large BUCKAROOS TO THE GOP AND TEA PARTY. WHAT?!?!?!
I merely lost the chief staple of my nutrition. No more #six: no cheese, no cucumber.
I put on some Bikini Kill, Against Me, Veruca Salt and NWA and pretended to trash the living room. I bankrupt about seven guitars, screamed multiple times into various pillows. Stood on the window nonetheless pretending to scream.
Throwing open the refrigerator door, I grab my half eaten Snickers, star-fish onto the sofa and call my mom.
No respond.
I movement another Snickers from the freezer to the fridge for after.
….
Nix particularly too terrible happened today. But information technology was notwithstanding not a good i. Calming down from my simulated stone-star tantrum, I think the rage roller-coaster stems from a lack of activity. No, it's true, I detest working out. I have been trying to (unsuccessfully) run on a consistent ground. Only I need something else.
Every summer before this ane, I would spend it playing tennis, basketball game, bike-riding, dancing, horse-back riding, cheering (yeah, surprise, I was a cheerleader). I besides really similar to move furniture and rearrange rooms to at-home myself down.
I need some more than of that.
So, if anyone wants to join me hustlin' diverse courts, I am so down. If anyone wants to just dance, (yes I said 'just dance' like this), I am and so down. If anyone wants to feng shui, I am so, so down.
Source: https://overitovertlyagain.wordpress.com/2011/06/20/somethings-off/