Siddity In The City

No-Good, Superbad, Fucked-Up Day

And mine hasn't even officially begun yet. Now, everyone, from time to time, has to start working before they start working. You know what I mean--you're off the clock, but you still need to get isht done, and it ain't gonna happen during regular work hours. Today, for me, is one of those days. Everyday is one of those days, in a way, since phonecalls and emails and coordination for my job usually begins 2-5 hours before I actually start work, but today, I actually need to go out and do shit. Anyway, I tried to get my act together extra early so I could go out and take care of this stuff before work. This is how it went: Breakfast: Ryvitabutterandjelly cracker, turkey bacon, blueberries. I get so distracted in my attempts to spread the "jelly" that my turkey bacon is burned all to hell; on its way to my mouth, the most perfectly splendid-juicylicious looking blueberry ever jumps from fingers directly to garbage. I grumble. I have a bunch more, so grumbling is minimal. Post-breakfast attempts to leave: Realize I need to take out trash; grumble, but bundle trash for disposal. On my way out the door, I spot the container of blueberries I've rinsed and neglected to return to the fridge. I don't want them to go all moldy while I am at work, since they are the deliciousest looking blueberries this season, so I grab them to put in the fridge, roughly 15 inches away. The little plastic snap-top container is not totally closed, so my one-handed grip on tip and bottom snaps it open as I lift, sending blueberries flying around my kitchen. I back up, attempting to avoid stepping on them. Instead, I grind the ones that have landed behind me into my kitchen rug. Now I feel like a fucktard. A fucktard with no time to clean up the berries. I run out grumbling. Okay, cursing like an angry bitch. Actually outdoors: Three feet from my front door, I realize I have left my favorite new book upstairs in my apartment. I am now pressed enough for time and angry enough that I literally go, "Ah, fuck it," in the middle of the sidewalk, and decide to just buy another copy during my errand mission. A half-block later, I am stomping along, grumbling, when my eyeball is savagely attacked by air-conditioner runoff. (Aside: I hate that shit. 1. Everygoddamnthing flies into my ginormous eyes, which pisses me off anyway, but I am extra disgusted by the AC gak epidemic in this city. 2. When I moved here last summer, I honestly used to carry an umbrella around all the time, wondering why there were so many spontaneous showers in this town. Imagine my horror when I realized there are just that many goddamned window-muonted ACs pissing their runoff down on me. Grrrrrrrr.) As I stumble down the street trying to keep said runoff from blinding me, or at least giving me one nasty case of pink-eye, I stumble on one of those friggin' basement storage doors that open out onto the sidewalk. Mercy of mercies, at least it's closed. I stumble to the end of the block and my cell buzzes. In the confusion, I've missed a call from my boss. Oh goddamn. I'm so disgruntled by my little drama I've actually come back home. Total time elapsed from beginning of drama to end (not counting breakfast debacle): about 17 minutes. God help me if it gets worse. At least I can get my book now. *heaving sigh*

posted by Sid @ 7/15/2005 01:01:00 PM