Friday, September 18, 2009

"Well, it all started at Grace and Belvidere..."

I am usually, generally, mostly a pretty laid-back, go along with whatever is going on kind of person. I can usually find the bright side and focus on it. Not today. Today is all kinds of bad and funkiness (being funky and being in a funk are two completely different things).

It all started on the bus ride home yesterday. There was an overturned SUV blocking Grace at Belvidere. The bus had to detour over to Broad. Going up Broad during rush hour traffic and then wanting to turn left in front of that traffic is a nightmare. Granted I’m not driving but I had a lengthy list of things that had to be done that evening. Getting stuck in hellacious traffic was not on that list (neither was “take a nap” - that list had it out for me from the beginning).

I finally got home, changed, had a snack and got my stuff together so I could go run all my errands. While walking to my car, I realize that I was not dressed appropriately for the weather. I turned back around, changed, grabbed an umbrella and left again. Leaving: Take II was successful.

I headed over to The Yarn Lounge (which was a little overwhelming) and then the CVS and then it was off to Short Pump (which I usually avoid like you avoid someone with H1N1) and then the Tuckahoe library and then Joann Fabrics (which was mildly disappointing) and then Kroger (thank you baby James for trail mix and bottle water being sold by the registers) and then to a Twitter gathering (that, p.s., I was an hour late to and only stayed for a few minutes because I was in no condition to be around people and be social) and then home.

You’d think the home part would be the end of my evening, but no, it’s not. Once back in Apt. 101 I did laundry (when you live in a 7 story building it’s a good idea to remember which floor’s laundry room you’re using, playing hide-and-seek with your laundry is not fun), made and packed breakfast and lunch for today, packed for this weekend’s trip to Hampton, paid bills, balanced the checkbook, wrapped Angie’s birthday presents, made and ate dinner (at 11 freaking p.m., well somewhere there about, I don’t remember what time it was but it was way too late), took all the trash out, showered and finally collapsed in my sweet, loving, oh so comfy bed around 1:45 a.m.

Today is where the funk comes in. It’s all little things that out of context don’t seem so bad, but string them all together with 5 hours of sleep and you’ve got funkiness. This morning my hair felt weird and wouldn’t do a damned thing I suggested. It is currently being corralled by a headband. The outfit I threw on, with 2 minutes left to get out of the door to catch the bus, doesn’t fit me and I look sloppy and uncomfortable. These shoes are killing my feet. They are the most uncomfortable pair of ballet flats EVER MADE. I had to run a city block to catch that bus I was so worried about. Once on the bus I made the mistake of telling the lady with the baby “aw, what a cute baby!” She then proceeded to roll her eyes at me and shake her head. SHE ROLLED HER EYES AT ME!! What the what? I got off two stops too early to be able to go to Starbucks, unless I *wanted* to be late for work. When I decided "to hell with it, I’ll be late," I realized that my wallet is sitting on my desk at home. No money, no Starbucks. Co-worker/friend asked if we were still on for lunch. Blink, blink moment. I had completely forgotten (which is not like me) that we were going to Cap Ale for lunch. But I can’t BECAUSE MY WALLET IS ON MY DESK AT HOME.

Can I just crawl into bed and stay there until this cloud of funk takes its leave of me?

In better news, tomorrow is Talk Like a Pirate Day. Go here and, by the powers!, you’ll be speakin’ pirate-like quicker than you can say yo-ho-ho! (Son of a biscuit eater is my favorite.)

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