Thursday, September 23, 2010

Having a Monday on a Thursday

So today (much like the weather) is having an identity crisis. Normally Thursday is a nice and happy prelude to almost-the-weekend, and we get along fine. Today though, Thursday thinks it's Monday, and although *I* like Mondays, most people think Mondays are the days when things go Catastrophically Wrong, and that's what we're dealing with here. And it's the first day of Fall which normally makes me all giddy inside but it's over NINETY DEGREES which just makes me A. Sweaty and B. Reluctantly Agree with the environmental song by Disturbed.

Today I have:

* Run over a squirrel at 50 mph, so no chance of hitting the brakes. Basically it was suicide by car. I'm still not happy. I love our woodland friends.

* Lost my wedding ring. It was in the kitchen cabinet because it flew off when I stashed my mp3 player there. I cried and hyperventilated and alternately thanked God for my insurance rider. This all makes sense.

* Shut my foot in the car door. Enough said.

* Accidentally put the car in park at a red light so when the light changed, I revved my engine and didn't go anywhere. This made me VERY popular with the line of 400 commuters behind me.

* Am becoming increasingly convinced I have uterine cancer. Either that or I need to lay off the vinegar & salt chips. Dr. Oz is worried about abdominal bloating. Shut. up.

* Was unable to get Casanova to nap, which really, is the true low point. He's awake, irritable and has already ruined what little organization I had going on in my office area.

* Got a call from an allergist who wanted to make sure I understood that "there is no proven link between food and alopecia." I understand. I'm going to start writing for The Lancet, but I understand.

* Realized that my 4 pm appointment downtown will put me leaving downtown at 5 pm. I'm sure I'll have to pee too, just for added fun.

So I'm pretty much determined to lay low and hope that the rest of this Evil Thursday passes me by. I'd hide under the bed but A. it's spider season and B. as Oedipus showed us, you can't fight fate. Or you marry your mom. Or something.

Comments, questions, how bad is your bad day?

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