Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today is one of those days.

I know it's one of those days because I've been up for all of an hour and forty five minutes and I'm already kicking myself for getting out of bed this morning despite having the knowledge it was going to be a horrible day. And I knew when I first woke up that it was going to be a bad day. 

I'll spare you the details as to what clearly indicated going to work today would be a bad idea, but let's just say that it was a sign beyond a shadow of a reasonable doubt. 

After that first sign, I got in the shower. No hot water for some reason. No idea why. Plus thanks to the first sign I had to give Choo Choo a bath. 

Things went normally until it was time to check my things before putting on my make up. Do not ask me WHY I always check my things before I put on my make up. That's just the order of my routine. I'm sure there was some logical reason I started doing it that way, but that was years ago. I don't remember the thought process. Only that this is the way it's always been since I can remember. And this morning there was a kink in the wheel of my time. My Debit Card was missing.

What? Call to Padawan. Text. Text. Text. Where is my card???? Not in my wallet. Not in my purse. Not in my computer case. Where? WHERE???????

In Rosebud's jacket.

Don't ask how it got there. I can't tell you because I don't know.

By the time I found my card I had two choices: put on my make up and be late for work (like every other employee), or go to work and just not wear make up. My phone was in my hand and I seriously considered calling Jay Jay to tell him I was going to be late. But then...I didn't want to be like everybody else. At great personal sacrifice, I grabbed my things and came to work with nothing but morning glow moisturizer on my face. Oh, the horror. 

My eyebrows? They are blond. 

Blond eyebrows with really dark brown hair. Do you guys have any idea how ridiculous this looks? It's way more ridiculous that dark eyebrows with blond hair. That's how freaking silly this looks. I haven't had a face this bare since I was sixteen years old. That was when I discovered the wonder of mascara and eyeshadow. None of that, now. 

I'm rocking my beach look, minus the swim suit.

The whole way to work I was obsessing about the lack of even the bare amount of mascara. I had completely skipped the face routine. This wasn't good. Would the world end? Would everybody hate me? If I died, would the world think I was a horribly lazy girl who didn't even take the bare minimal of time to make herself a little more presentable in the morning?

When I stopped to pick up my latte this morning I was pretty worked up. I am already a fairly high strung person. Add unnecessary stress about things I don't normally have to stress over and I'm a time bomb waiting to explode. I left Starbucks with my coffee and was immediately assaulted by a cricket.

A fucking cricket. On top of everything else that had already gone wrong in my morning, after everything I'd already been through, I was attacked by a god damned cricket sent straight from the bowels of hell to ruin my already fucked up day. 

I screamed and dropped my latte.

God damn it to hell. That latte was the only part of my morning that was a guaranteed bit of perfection.

I nearly cried.

Instead, I got really pissed off. Really angry. I'd already woken up to a nightmare, taken a cold shower, lost my card, and didn't finish my morning routine in the way I generally finish it. That little fucker had the nerve to cost me my one solace in the face of a miserable fucking day, and for the first time in my life I deliberately stepped on a bug and felt a little satisfaction at the crunching sound that normally disgusts me. I killed that cricket. It was awesome. I felt on top of the world. I struck a blow for my freedom.

One small step for man, one great leap for Chanel-kind and that jazz.

Then I turned around and went back inside to buy another coffee. The Barista gave me a new one for free, bless her heart. She's so sweet. I'm in almost every morning, so I guess she knew I couldn't possibly make up the whole cricket thing. She might have heard me scream, though. It was a really good scream.

I got to work.

And then the first news of reprieve. The phone lines were down. Ah, sweet justice, how you thrill me when you exercise your powers in my favor. It was only for thirty minutes or so, but it kept me from bursting into tears when I got to work.

Because I should have stayed home, in bed, where it was safe and nothing could upset me.

Then, because I felt like showing just how good of an employee I am, I told Jay Jay that I totally could have been late and that I nearly called, but decided not to even though it cost a great and very personal sacrifice on my part.

Then he asked, "What's the great personal sacrifice?"

Well, I didn't expect him to ask. Who asks?

Not that my great personal sacrifice wasn't great. It was. In the land of my neurotic self, altering my morning rituals in any way is a monumental occurrence in the world I live in. My rituals generally trump everything else by means of importance.

But seeing as it was make up and it was only five minutes of sacrifice, and Jay Jay is male, I didn't want to tell him what sacrifice. It's no fun to be mocked, and most people would find that a mocking offense.

"It was just a great personal sacrifice."

"Yeah. But what's the sacrifice?"

*sigh* "I didn't put on my  make up! There!"

"You're not wearing any make up?"

"No. And it's bugging me. Look at my eyebrows!"

"You look gorgeous!"

That makes it almost worth it.

And then Raver lent me her mascara and I put some on and I felt a little better. Except my eyebrows are still blond and don't match my hair. But at least I have better eyelashes now. It's the little things that count.