It's Raining, It's Pouring, the Old Man is SNORING
Took forever to get home last night. But the best husband in the freaking universe was there greeting me with a big pot of chili and garlic bread. Seriously. Not kidding. Homemade even. What a man!
Worst commute ever this morning. I barely make my bus. After boarding (and paying!) the driver tells us that his right-hand turn signal doesn't work. He has to call for a supervisor. Five minutes later still no sign of the supervisor. And no ETA on when I will be getting into work. I decide to just screw my two dollars (because of course we get no refunds) and drive in. Driving in cheers me a bit, mainly because I was rocking out to Janis Joplin and Aretha Franklin all the way in. But the parking lot that I usually park in is mysteriously not accepting credit cards. Or cash. Or any earthly method of payment. You either need alien money or a fist born to offer. I have neither.
Have to go to another lot. Which is of course MORE MONEY. So pissed at this point. Get to work twenty minutes late anyway. Pig fuckers.
Oh and it's still raining. So my beautiful new pants got wet. DAMN IT.
Have a sore throat this morning. Since one of my office-mates sounds like she is in the late stages of lung cancer with her cough I am thinking that I am about to get the mother of all colds. GREAT.
Actually. Would like to stay home. Had to have a serious conversation with myself about how even though we have two incomes now it is no excuse not to come to work. Even though it is raining. And cold. And the perfect day to stay in bed wearing flannel pajamas eating Easy Mac and drinking 7-Up and watching episodes of Camp Jim and Audrey Hepburn movies on AMC. How do people with Tivo go to work at all? If you could stay home and watch all the things you have been missing? But had to be firm with myself. Must go to work. Every day. Until I die.
How cheerful is that shit?
