I don’t think Vicky will be very amused by me designating her kind of morning one that is “completely filled with slip-ups, gaffes and oopsies” but that’s the kind I had.
I should start by telling you that I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s hot down here in SoCal at the moment and our condo got very… hot. Muggy, humid, sticky – pick your bitch. (No, guys. Don’t start yelling out women’s names… that’s too easy…) (But why is it the word “bitch” has so many meanings for so many things, as if it can’t be insulting to enough things, when “bastard” only refers to a fatherless boy?...)
Vicky made a comment about turning on the air conditioner for Suki the next day as we went to bed. (Another bitch.) (I mean Suki!)
Now, I’m not kidding here. Around 11pm, I turned to Vicky and said, “You’re going to turn on the air conditioner for the dog but we have to lie here and sweat?!” Before she could answer (because, you see, she had been able to fall asleep), I was up and closing windows. She said, “I’ll go turn it on,” but I was already downstairs, heading for the thermostat.
Then, I went back upstairs and waited for the house to cool off.
And then, woke up at 4am… so you can imagine how I was a little sleepy…
But I went to the gym so I could get some more sweating out of the way. That part went fine. No problems. Sweat glands functioning A-OK…
But then, I came out and found a bus filled with… um... what’s the right term here? Mentally challenged adults – no, not your garden variety retards who usually go to the gym and talk about sports like they actually played them or Republicans, I’m talking about really mentally handicapped folks. Anyway, the bus was parked just beside my car and all of the passengers were milling about right behind me, and my car faced a wall. I waited by my car door, hoping they would see I wanted to pull out… nope, they didn’t even see me. “Excuse me?” I said. I didn’t want to be a jerk… it was just working out that way. “Um… excuse me?” I was already running late and had to get home to get ready for work. “Could you… um…. Excuse me?” Finally, someone noticed me there and they began shuffling over, allowing me to get home without crushing them under my wheels… you know… cause that would be wrong…
I was already running late and I hadn’t taken a shower, yet. (My mornings are timed with the precision of the Blue Angels… except there are fewer explosions… and mine aren’t as deadly… most of the time…) By the time I got out – giving Vicky a quick kiss, eating a small bowl of Cinnamon Cluster Fuck – I was running late and I was still tired.
I had to stop for gas; my tank was nearly empty. I had wanted to leave early to give myself to get gas but I left on time, which means I left late… yeah, it hurt my head, too. I pulled up at the pump, swiped my car, started pumping…
The pump was going very slowly. I mean, I was literally looking at the pump and thinking, “Come on!” before the next number came up. I retied my tie, cleaned out my car a little, washed my windows, and counted to ten…
I wasn’t even at a gallon, yet!
I had to leave by the time the pump hit $10.00 – 15 minutes later! (Trust me, I would have used another pump, but they were just as slow. I watched everyone making impatient movements like ships through ice. And there weren’t any other stations on the way, so just leave it alone!)
By the time I got on the freeway, I was disastrously late!
I started looking for a way to merge in, when I realized the three cars next to me were not letting me in. I tried speeding up – they sped up. I tried slowing down – they slowed down. They were working as a unit, a precision, traffic-prevention team! Nobody else was getting on the freeway, if they had anything to say about it – and I was running out of merging lane! So, I punched it (yes, you can do that with my car) and took the shoulder around the first car – but they then moved (as a unit) to keep me from merging further. The thing is, I have to be in the left lane to catch the correct freeway. So, I punched it again (I’m just mean that way) and got in front of them once again. Into the lane to my left, they merged again… they hated me.
About 15 minutes later, things had settled into the pace. I was listening to Stephanie Miller and moving along when I noticed something on my hand. Doggone it! Did I chip a fingernail? Was that what - ? I brought my nail closer and looked at –
BRAKE LIGHTS! Suddenly, I slammed on my breaks and pulled at my wheel to prevent a skid – I swear, I looked like something out of Roger Rabbit. (“Hey, Eddie? What comes in the middle of a song?” “Bridge!”) But then, I realized that the brake lights weren’t even near me and nobody else was slowing down and – “Okay,” I shouted. “I’m the asshole!” And the people who passed me, getting the fuck away from me, looked at me like I was, too. But what can I say? It had been that kind of morning.
By the time I got into work, it was late and all the parking spots were taken. I had to park about a quarter mile away. I stepped out of my car, locked my door, headed towards the building and – oh, shit! My lunch box! I went back to my car, got my lunch box, locked my door, headed towards the building and – oh, shit! My badge! I went back to my car… this took a while.
In the building, I clocked in and decided to wake myself up with a little zipfizz – my favorite stuff in the world at that hour. I pulled out a bottle of water and a vial of zipfizz… and dropped the water. Silly me. So, I picked up the water… and dropped the zipfizz…
And put my head on my desk. Some days, it doesn’t pay to get out of bed.