...Yesterday was a bad day. A bad day. It started, of course, with my poor old cat, though that wasn't his fault; he held on as long as he could.
Then I overslept. When I did haul myself in, I got kind of yelled at for reporting my twisted ankle and I may be in trouble because, with two guys on the tower and no backup on the ground, I didn't drop everything and drive ten miles to the Approved Caregiver to have them do exactly what I did (at fifty times the price -- I spent 12 bucks on a couple of Ace bandages) and therefore have no paper trail. I may not even be able to work today until I have all the i's crossed and t's dotted precisely per SOP, for an injury of the same scale, severity and difficulty of diagnosis and treatment as a paper cut.
And then, having wrapped up my half-day's work on what was supposed to be a day off, I was heading back from a quick trip to the bank (so I could feed the vending machines) when a half-wit rear-ended me as I was slowing down for a stoplight at an intersection with a set-back balk line. It was well under 5 mph, just a thud, a jar and a white paint scribble on my rear bumper, but jeesh! I got out and clomped back to swap insurance info and he was only semi-apologetic; first he said he didn't see me slowing, then that his brakes locked. It was raining after a long dry spell and the streets were slick but that's no excuse. I chewed him out and let him go. I probably shouldn't have; he was dangerously clueless.
Went home, had dinner and went to bed. The phone rang several times, which is what happens when you go to bed at 6:00 p.m.
It wasn't a good day. Today will be better -- and I don't much care who I have to throttle, at least metaphorically, to make it that way.
He Worked On A Starship
1 month ago