- Every time I get in the car, the stupid motherfucking emergency cord for the garage door opener hits me in the head. I'm going to cut it off, but I know if I do, I'll need it. That's just how my world works. So, I try and ignore this, but it's hard. Nobody wants to start her day getting swatted in the head by something you always initially think is a giant spider.
- Also, mornings suck because I sometimes have to sidle in to my car, because the husband parks too fucking close and I can't open the door all the way. So then I'm trying to carry my bag, my keys and whatever other bullshit, slip into the car and not get my clothes dirty from rubbing on two cars that are months overdue for a cleaning. And, of course, that motherfucking cord has hit my head. Which doesn't help my mood for when I go in the house and have to do something like cook. Because at that point . . .
- I go to pull out a lid for a pot or pan, but the cabinet is awkwardly situated, because we've crammed a low shelf full of beverages and potatoes and onions directly across from it and the cat food and water bowl perpendicular. So I have to open the cabinet door from the side and lean over and reach in, which is no way to find ANYTHING, even though I've already purchased a lid holder, which no one but me ever seems to use, so I try and get the lid I need, only to have EVERY. FUCKING. LID. fall out of the cabinet, onto the dirty floor, making me crazier and more pissed off and less happy about having to cook in the first place. So instead, I refocus.
- I try to do something simple, like upgrade my OS [hahahaha stop laughing]. But I knew, I KNEW I shouldn't have gotten the upgrade, because shit never works for me, so instead of having a free OS upgrade from Apple, I find out that my DVD drive doesn't work [some laser bullshit tech speak thing] and, because my computer is old and out of warranty, they want me to pay $$$$ to fix it. $$$$ which I do not have because . . .
- I'm trying to make a living being a lawyer on my own [can't find a full-time job] and also by writing [slowly things trickle in - but not on a subsistence level] and I spend hours and hours and days networking and searching for jobs and applying for jobs and interviewing for jobs, all to have them tell me, Thanks, but no thanks. Loser.
- Which, in turn, makes living harder, because I have to pay my bills, but then I also have to call people about said bills, and no one is ever helpful. No one. It's like they LIVE to make you miserable. For example, AT&T Uverse hounded us for 2 months saying we owed them $286 when we knew damnably sure that we didn't, so we only kept paying what we owed them, even though they kept threatening to disconnect us, and then, suddenly, in the last bill? WE ARE CREDITED THROUGH OCTOBER!!! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU AT&T. I'd like 2 months worth of apology calls, assholes.
- Which exacerbates the cranky. I hate being cranky, so I try not to be cranky, but it's hard when it's the end of September and I have to turn the AIR CONDITIONER on because it's 87 degrees and humid and I dislike being that hot and sweaty for no reason. What is wrong with you, Nature? Menopause?
- And speaking of menopause, I keep forgetting to do something, like say, mail a get well card, which has been sitting in my purse, getting more and more decrepit, for about 2 weeks now, because it has to go out of the country, and I want to make sure I have the right postage, and I have to say, the Postal Service site isn't very helpful [but it's better than standing in line, right?] so I ultimately end up putting 4 stamps on it and hoping for the best. In both the card having the correct postage and the whole Get Well thing.
- Which finally results in me feeling like a complete loser, because how is that a person who has functioning limbs and near-limitless time on her hands is unable to get to the Post Office? Even though I hate going because it's always 2 people working with 8 open windows and a minimum of 7 people in line, 5 of whom are elderly and you know they are going to take some time, and the other 2 have their giant eBay and Craigslist packages that they need to mail, and they decided to wait until they had a dolly full of boxes, and all I want is a sign, somewhere, that tells me how many stamps to use for Air Mail. Because, of course, the kiosk is out of order.