Some days are just comically stupid, and feel epic in their awfulness, as if men in loincloths and covered in sweat-stained leather straps will come charging up on their meaty, biteable, well-oiled thighs and hack me to bits while shouting things about Sparta. Or that could just be a fantasy my brain is concocting in order to distract me from my sorrow and keep me from ending it all before it can be ended for me in some incredibly embarrassing way. Whatever’s going on there–I hate today. I hate it a lot.
Here’s the buildup–I slept poorly and with little room because of piles of dogs, I felt stomach-sick, I got up at 5:30 to be sick in the bathroom awhile. And then I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I decided to get up and work, except Adobe Acrobat hates me and my FTP program hates me and everything kept shutting down on me. I bickered with the tech guys at the company I work for and everything was apparently my fault and why was I still using XP and how old is your Acrobat? I spent a lot of money to upgrade it because I was so sick of its glitches. Then, OMG PROOFREADING EMERGENCY (note: There is no such thing, but I was stuck anyway). They said they would recreate my FTP account. The tech guys do not like me or my family.
Let’s breathe in and out! Let’s have a generally quiet afternoon. Those
are nice. It’s not like I can work, anyway, so let’s look at the Internet. The Internet doesn’t work? You know what, I’m going to go
read a book for awhile before I break something. Things will
eventually turn out. That’s how technological issues are solved, by
magic! Magically, the router came back online! But I was tired of being
in the house. I went grocery shopping, to make dinner for the
boys. I borrowed Aaron’s car, headed up to Albertson’s, had a
relatively successful shopping trip that felt extremely annoying,
mostly because I was extremely annoyed. Lugged all the crap out to the car,
and it did not start. Of course the car did not start.
Of course no one was picking up their phone. Back inside to ask customer
service if anyone could jump the car. The meat guy came out, and then
another guy, and no one could open the hood of the car and it was one
billion degrees and the meat was going to spoil. I piled everything back
up into the cart and dragged it inside, and asked if there was somewhere I could stash it. My stomach was roiling because oh my God, the car was on
my watch and it’s ruined and I’ve ruined everything and why must I
destroy everything good in the world and suddenly I realized I was about
to be incredibly sick, but the service counter woman was still talking.
I bolted. I was incredibly sick long before I reached the restroom. I cleaned
up as best I could, came out with paper towels to clean up but someone was
already there with a bucket, looking disgusted, and I wanted to cry.
I was wet, the guys came back in and told me it was the starter and my car was ruined, and I still felt sick and my groceries had disappeared and
I was sure it was fine but it all seemed like entirely too much. There’s a
service station down the block, they told me. Go see if they can help
you. I did. The guy couldn’t do anything until later in the week. It would
cost a million dollars because it was probably the alternator or the
spoiler or the rocket fuel or something and I left the car and tried to
figure out how I was going to get home, with all the groceries. The
service desk woman, who was wonderful and had not balked in the face of
my wild-eyed panic, called the only cab company in town. Then E’s dad
called, and he was on his way and I was feeling sick again. I made it back
to the restroom. I still didn’t know where my groceries were.
It’s the battery, he said. It’ll be okay, he said. We’ll get you home.
We’ll figure out the car later. I found my groceries, he helped me unload
them into the house. I took a bath for awhile, because I felt so gross.
Things are better after a bath. Dinner smells good, the boys will be
home in awhile, and then I will feed them and go to sleep and dream of
gladiators because today ought to be over, and soon.