Andrea and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

I'm having a day.  Not just a day.  A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  I'm sure you can relate.

I worked out at 7:30 this morning which, sure, good for me for hitting the gym.  But let's just say I'm not the sparkling pillar of positivity that you've come to know and love when it's 7 freaking 30 in the morning.  My trainer, however, IS a sparkling pillar of positivity.  Always.  At every hour of every day.  And she has two teenagers at home.  I'm very proud of her for it.  She's very encouraging and she listens and lets me use the 'F' word as much as I want because, frankly, that's the only word my brain can come up with at 7 freaking 30 in the morning.  But today I was out of sorts and I said something unusually mean to my sparkly, shiny friend and now I feel terrible.  So, if she should happen to stumble upon this, I'm very sorry and thank you for not punishing me with that 'stand-up-sit-down' thing even though you know how much I hate it and I probably deserved it.

Afterwards I went to my wonderful job only to receive some unsettling news about things to come (or possibly not come) at work and it put me on edge.  Luckily I'm a civil servant and the world expects us to be surly, so that worked out just fine.

I was SO happy at the end of the day to finally be able to pack it in and head home.  Of course today it's raining and, at the very innuendo of rain, every citizen of the state of Ohio collectively forgets how to drive.  I'm sure I could include myself in that collective shame, but this is my story so every other driver can suck it.

I get home and there's a notice on my door that management will be coming to inspect my apartment tomorrow.  Side note: I've been sick lately.  The entire city has been passing around a Martian death virus for the past couple of weeks and I was one of the parasite's lucky hosts.  So my apartment looks like you would expect it to look after its inhabitant spent the past 9 or 10 days feeling the grim fingers of death at her neck.  So they're coming to my apartment in about 17 hours but I don't really have TIME to create a Better Homes & Gardens facade because I have Bible study tonight.  So I did what every responsible, job-holding, tax-paying, grown up would do and just started stuffing things into closets and under the bed.

I take a moment to quickly go through the rest of the mail just in case Ed McMahon plans to stop by and wants to make sure I'll be home.  Sadly, there's no letter from Ed, but there IS a bill for $300 from Walgreen's. As most of you know by now, my father suffers from dementia.  He still drives, which I hate, but the state of Ohio is perfectly a-ok with it so what can I do?  I've taken away his access to most of his money and accounts so he can't get into too much trouble, right?  Yeah, right.  Apparently he decided to go into Walgreen's to get his annual flu and pneumonia shots and told them to just send him the bill.  Problem, he lives in assisted living and they give those vaccines to every resident.  He had already been vaccinated but didn't remember so he figured he'd go get the shots himself.  Of course the insurance company isn't about to pay for 2 sets of vaccines which is how I came to be staring at a bill that we really can't afford for $300.  Fan-freaking-tastic.

It's at this point that my darling cat starts to vigorously remind me that she's hungry and it's dinner time but, SHIT I haven't washed her food bowls.  Keep in mind, I still haven't fed myself.  I'm running on a blueberry muffin and an overpriced Starbucks coffee, both of which I consumed at 9am.  But my cat is very persistent so I decide to wash her bowls and feed her before feeding myself.  This isn't quite good enough for her so she begins to wind circle-eight formations around my ankles while meowing louder and louder to remind me that she's STILL hungry.  She does such a good job that I trip and drop her porcelain bowls which shatter on the kitchen floor.  I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This.  I end up putting her food on a plate for now but she isn't smart enough to hold down one side while she eats so she ends up scooting the plate in circles around the kitchen trying to lap up her dinner.  I could watch this comedy act for hours but, oh crap, I need to get to Bible study.  I still haven't eaten but they usually have snacky treats.  Hopefully they have SOMETHING there that isn't vegan, gluten free, organic, and/or kind to the environment.  My friends are such good people.  Damn them.

So I hop in my car and drive the half hour to Dublin to meet with my people.  The people I love oh so much who will comfort me and lift my spirit.  Only...Wait...No one's home.  What?  So I grab my phone and check my email.  I'm terrible at checking my email.  Apparently an email was sent hours ago that we had to cancel due to, big surprise here, serious illness.  Son of a @#%&!  So I did what every responsible, job-holding, tax-paying, grown up would do and sat in my car and cried.  Back off.  I'm a girl.  We're allowed.

But, this actually works out.  This gives me time to run to the pet store, buy new METAL bowls, and hit the grocery store because OF COURSE I spotted mold on my bread at home and if I don't at least have a sandwich within the next hour I'm going to commit a felony.  I also used the time to throw some laundry in the washer because, after all, I AM a responsible, job-holding, tax-paying, grown up.  Fifty bucks says that laundry doesn't make it out of the dryer and folded until next weekend.

So that's it.  I'm done.  I have adulted this whole day and none of it really worked out so I'm done.

I did do ONE thing right today.  I phoned a friend.  And not just any friend, the RIGHT friend.  I have a lot of friends, and each has her own special talent and today was the day for Crissy.  Crissy is amazing. She herself is somewhat of a sparkly pillar, but mostly in the sense that everything she owns either started off bedazzled or eventually ended up that way.  I called Crissy, not because she's sparkly, but because I knew she wouldn't blow smoke up my butt and tell me that this means tomorrow has to be fantastic.  Nope.  Crissy told me what I wanted, neigh, needed to hear.  Essentially that my day blew.

See, that's the thing I think guys are missing from their relationships.  They feel the need to 'fix' things.  Everything has to be a project.  It's different for us girls.  Most of the time all we're looking for is a little freaking sympathy.  And Crissy is great at that.

My day is slowly coming to an end.  I still have a ton of crap to stash and I still haven't had my sandwich, and those clothes sure as f*** aren't coming out of the dryer tonight.  But I feel okay.  I talked to my friend and she agreed that my day totally sucks, which is all I've wanted all night long.  So now I'm going to go make a sandwich and watch PBS for a bit before collapsing into bed.  If the landlord wants to evict me tomorrow, screw him.  I'm just proud I made it through today.