So why is it that I keep having the Ultimate Days from Hell? Repeatedly. Is it really not enough that my fetus died 3 months ago? Do I REALLY need this shit on a regular basis? Am I being taught some kind of horrible lesson about how life sucks and then you die? Because I kind of already know that. I'm an accountant.
Yesterday morning, I woke up around 4:15 and was unable to return to slumber due to a Killer Kombo of menstrual cramps and giant tonsils. My throat inexplicably felt like I'd swallowed glass, and I wanted to scrape my fucking uterus with my damn fingernails just to get it all over with already, jesus christ that shit hurts. (I should mention, I'm still getting used to having a period, as for the previous 8 years I've been a suppressor. Now I remember why.)
So I'm laying there in pain, cursing my alarm clock as it advanced slowly but purposefully toward the Dreaded Time when it would alert me to the fact that I have work to do! Get up! For a moment, I nearly dozed off....
Fire alarms. At 5:00 a.m. Loud ones. We rolled out of bed and I stuck my head into the apartment hallway (forgetting to test the door knob for heat and stuff) to check it out. Nothing. Nobody standing in the hallway, no smoke, no fire. Just loud, loud alarms. Definitely too loud to sleep through, and most definitely too loud to watch television. Loud, loud alarms.
For 30 minutes.
Eventually, the firemen cleared the building (they never checked MY apartment, what if I'd been on fire in there?) and they shut off the alarms. Gray went back to bed. Bastard. I got in the shower and headed to work.
In the car on the way to work, I happened to catch the weather report. It informed me that there would be snow. Several inches of it. Followed by several days with highs below zero. I didn't really think much of it, though. Until later in the morning, when I realized I had my first creative writing class at 6:00. In St. Paul. 32 miles away, in the snow, in rush hour traffic. FUCKITY.
During the course of the day, my tonsils continued to throb and they were joined by sneezing and yet ANOTHER new cold sore (had one last week)((thanks Dad)). Then my top lip just kind of...split, presumably from the cold, dry air. Because my bleeding hands aren't enough torture.
At 3:00, I checked the university's website for any class cancellations: there were none. Many area schools were closed, but none of the colleges. That was ok! I was EXCITED to go to creative writing. I was looking forward to a class for the first time! I didn't want class to be cancelled! I wanted to go! Write!!
So I headed out at 4:00 for St. Paul. The roads were just this side of passable. There wasn't even really that much new snow - maybe 4 inches - but it was still sloppy and extremely slippery. There was bumper-to-bumper traffic during a time of day which wouldn't normally see any traffic at all.
But it was all good! I had snacks! I was prepared! I could let the stress of driving across two metros roll right off my back because I! Was! Ready! and I figured that since I expected it to be a slow drive, that I'd just...chill. Listen to the radio. Get pumped up about class.
I'm not sure that my speed ever exceeded 5mph during the first 90 minutes of the drive. I literally rolled my way from Shakopee to St. Louis Park. And then, for a moment on highway 394, it looked like the traffic had cleared! I was driving 25 miles an hour! I was practically at warp speed! I was going to make it to class no more than 10 minutes late!
Then, out of nowhere, back to 5mph. I rolled all the way to St. Paul. And got to class at 7:15. THAT'S RIGHT. It took me OVER THREE HOURS to drive 32.17 miles.
Which meant I was exactly 1 hour and 15 minutes late to class. My professor? NOT COOL about it. I got marked as "tardy" like a little fucking kid. It was mortifying. Never mind that two people showed up after me, we were all delinquent little tardy fuckers. I'm pretty sure this professor gets around by flying on his magic fart dust, because he had no concept of weather and traffic and road conditions. Wasn't his fault it took me 3 hours to get to class, I should have left work early, apparently.
The best part? He cancelled class for NEXT Monday. Because of Martin Luther King Jr Day. Because THAT? Is an emergency worth cancelling class over. We NEVER SAW IT COMING, that holiday. We don't know WHAT hit us, but we certainly can't be expected to make it to class that day. It's MLK Jr. Day.
And I'm sure I'll be able to report that next Monday, when I don't have to drive to St. Paul, it will be 32 degrees and sunny. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee it.
And so I ask of you: Is it me? Am I just a negative person or something? Am I failing to see the Sunny Side of the Street here? Am I overlooking all of the silver linings that are lavishly bestowed upon my sickly, exhausted self?
Let me make a list of all the things that went right yesterday, and focus on those:
- It could have been worse. The building could have been on fire. I would have lost ALL of my porn and I had 6 beers in the fridge. So those fire alarms, they were a blessing in disguise
- I could have died in a snow-related car crash. And I didn't.
That's pretty much all I can come up with. Which means that I just need to learn that any day in which I do not lose everything I own in an apartment fire or die in a violent traffic accident is a FUCKING FANTASTIC DAY.
Clearly, I've been expecting too much. It must be that whole American entitlement thing.