Bad Day

This day really bites the big one. It started with an 8:00am dentist appointment. Don't get me wrong, I love, love, love my dentist (he's cute too!), but 8am is just too early to open your mouth to the world.

Let me back up. Because we are leaving for vacation tomorrow, I didn't get my requisite 6 hours of sleep. I got more like 4. While picking up my razor this morning to mow down the forest of leg hair, I somehow cut a large chunk out of my finger. I proceeded to bleed during my shower, bled while putting on makeup and doing hair, and bled down the stairs to breakfast. The only Band-Aid I could find was Sponge-Bob. How professional!

I also have been starting to feel a little tickle in my nose and throat, like sickness is knocking at the door. This would be about par for me, since we are traveling to Colorado for an adventure trip that will require me to be in peak condition for the next 5 days. I stopped on my way to work at Osco to stock up on Sudafed....several varieties. The pharmacist gave me a "are you a meth dealer?" look. Fuck you, man.

So I get to work and Sponge-Bob is leaking. Yes, folks...I'm still bleeding. I go in my drawer, retrieve my purse, yank the zipper and...it comes off in my hand. Now I have a zipped-up purse with no zipper to open it. After retrieving my purse from the wall against which I threw it, I forcefully ripped open the zipper and wondered if I had time to buy another purse before our trip. Nope.

On to work...I have about 20 minutes before a meeting, so I decide to start something that needs to be completed before I leave today (which is hopefully early, since our trip packing and prep is far from complete). I retrieve a file, manipulate it, load it to another system and start running some SQL against it. The results look strange! I realize (after 19 minutes) that I have been sent the wrong file. Now it's time for the meeting. It's 10:00am and I've done nothing productive yet. Maybe I should have just stayed home.

Fast forward to 2:00pm. I have gotten the correct file and things are looking up. I hear my boss's voice... "Hey, Goofy" (of course, that's not really the name he called me...I don't think). I turn around in time to see a camera pointed in my face. Click! Wonderful. He has taken a picture of me to send to our other office. They will see a picture of me, looking quite pale and sickly, with a Sponge-Bob Band-aid on my "fuck you" finger, and a screenshot of this blog post in the background.

Great. Just great.