Today has been the Worst Day Ever. Ok, it could have been a lot worse. No one went to the hospital or faced financial ruin. But still, it was one of those days where every little thing makes you want to scream bloody murder. Normally, I would deal with one of these days by crawling into bed with a bottle of Chardonnay and a straw to watch crappy reality television. For obvious reasons, I need another way to vent my frustration, hence this blog.
First of all, today is Monday and I woke up late cursing the fact that it was Monday. And my house was really, really cold. That is never fun, having to wake up on a Monday to a freezing cold house. The morning progressed well enough until I got dressed for work. Getting dressed at four months pregnant is not fun. Everyday something new doesn't fit. Things are getting tighter and more uncomfortable. But I had a cute dress picked out, that still fits and is flattering. I pull on my black tights to go with my dress and notice that there is a big hole in the leg. Crap. That was the last pair of black tights that I have that fit. All I had left was a pair of brown tights, but I didn't have a cute brown dress to wear. So I begrudgingly put on the brown tights and a brown skirt. The skirt fit fine. It's sweaters that I have a problem with because of my ever growing, motherly chest. I settled on a sweater set and went to work looking like an Ann Taylor sausage.
I get in my car and realize I have zero gas. But I woke up super late so I have no choice but to drive to work on fumes and get gas on my way to my afternoon meeting. I drive to work getting emails on my blackberry the whole time from my boss to come talk to him when I get in. Great, now he is going to know just how late I am.
At work, I'm just frustrated and crabby. I was tired, I looked like a sausage, my tights were cutting off all oxygen flow, etc. In this crabby, frustrated state I start to think of all the little things Brady did over the weekend that pissed me off. Like not carrying the vacuum cleaner upstairs the second I asked him to. You know, important stuff. So I bombard Brady with bitchy text messages for a couple of hours. And, gasp!, he doesn't immediately respond. What the hell? What, is he working or something? How rude. This makes me even more crabby.
Then I heat up the leftovers I brought for lunch and they smell like feet and I can't eat them. And my apple slices were brown. Now I'm crabby, frustrated, and starving.
I go about my work and then suddenly realize that I need to haul ass out of my office so I can get gas and get to my meeting on time. I drive to the gas station and circle and circle and circle waiting for an open pump. I finally get one and realize I don't have my wallet with me. I had to switch my hot pink Coach purse to my neutral Louis Vuitton purse because I was wearing a red sweater. There was no way I was going to look like a sausage and carry a clashing purse. The gas light is on, so I pray that I make it to my meeting.
I go to my meeting and get into a huge yelling fight with opposing counsel. He was rude and I refused to back down. Funny thing was, back when I was in law school I interviewed for a position at his firm and got it. I turned it down because of his reputation for being an asshole. I clearly made the right decision.
My meeting ends and I head up, praying, begging, that I make it home without running out of gas. I get off of the freeway, I'm so close, and my car begins to slow down and jerk, then it starts to seize up. I'm running out of gas. I manage to get over to the right lane and turn down a side street before I completely run out of gas. Luckily, even though I didn't have any money on me, I randomly had my Triple A card. So I called and the tow truck comes. He informs me that there is a $7 charge for gas. I explain that I have no money because I left my wallet at home. Hello, if I had $7 I would have bought some freaking gas! He says he will give me a little bit. I barely get home, get my wallet and fill up my tank.
I'm finally home, eating a snack, wearing comfy clothes. I sit down at the computer to review the file for my meeting tomorrow and realize I have forgotten the important part of the file at my office. Ugh, I give up. I'm off to bed to watch reality t.v. and eat oreos. Oreos are no Chardonnay, but they will do.