Allow me to give you a glimpse of my day yesterday. I woke up just like any normal day. Ran my three miles, made myself a breakfast which consisted of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and yogurt. I got myself ready for work, and drove in. Now, at my office, we switch out who is in charge every day, someone who takes care of all the little random things that pop up throughout the day at any given moment, and it just so happened that yesterday, was my day. I get my turnover from the guy who had it the day before and realize, with about four hours of notice that I was going to be escorting this well-to-do, important Swedish official around. From the beginning everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. The people he was traveling with ended up not being on the access list, the people who had laid out the proper safety gear for him, had misplaced it, the people who were supposed to deliver his biography didn’t, and the people that were supposed to bring his “thank you gift” didn’t even know anything about his visit. So the entire time I stand there looking like an idiot because I’m the only person there so OBVIOUSLY everything that went wrong…is my fault. When that was FINALLY over, I was driving back to my office, and my tire exploded. Like, we’re not talking about getting a flat. We’re talking the sidewall of my tire blew a hole and the tire comes flying off in pieces. Mind you, I have never had a tire explode. Here I was thinking the Swedes were mad at me and had sent assassins!!! Okay, maybe not that bad but still. At this point in my day, I was on my 7th Rockstar and, needless to say, I was pretty jumpy already. So after I realized that no one was shooting at me, I call up my buddy, because, while I know how to change a tire, in theory, the tires on my car weigh about 60 pounds and I weigh 87 pounds, and really let’s be honest, the math to this really doesn’t work out too well in my favor. So Ryan comes and puts my spare on for me and I drive to the tire place to get a new one and I sit there for almost three hours because they have to drive (in rush hour traffic) to their warehouse to get the specific tire. Finally my tire is changed and all is right in the world once again. I’m driving back to work (an hour after I was already supposed to have left to go home) just to check my email and tie up some loose ends and from out of nowhere, a truck slings a rock into my windshield, cracking it instantly. So…I turned around and drove home. You would think this was the end of my day…yet sadly, there was still the grand finale. I go out to my favorite bar to unwind (by this time I am on Rockstar number 12). I decided to just round it off to an even 15 and be done with it. My two favorite bartenders of all time were both working, finally my night is looking up. I have a blast at the bar and when walking to my car to drive myself home, I run into “an old friend.” Today I’m sporting a very trendy black eye that seems to be all the rage for me lately. Kids, you can collect all two!! To top off my night, after 15 Rockstars my blood to Rockstar content was severely questionable and the sleep I needed so desperately...never came. I think I’ve decided…that I need a cuddle buddy…any takers???
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1 comments:
Love "At this point in my day, I was on my 7th Rockstar and, needless to say, I was pretty jumpy already. So after I realized that no one was shooting at me, I call up my buddy, because, while I know how to change a tire, in theory, the tires on my car weigh about 60 pounds and I weigh 87 pounds, and really let’s be honest, the math to this really doesn’t work out too well in my favor. "
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