Tuesday, January 30, 2007

"We are barking up a tree that has no bark left."

Today was not a good day.

I woke up repeatedly throughout the night, subsequently sleeping through my alarm and getting to the office late. A nice start to the day.

My hair would not do anything right. I'd rushed out of the house before drying my hair, so it air-dried--leaving the back straight and my bangs in a fro (I do have a perm afterall.) And I'm not even going to start on my makeup and the lack of concealing my concealer was doing. And I couldn't find my eyelash curler. Normally I don't need it (neener, neener) but I did this morning.

I was late for my job interview. Yeah, I know I didn't tell you about that. Don't feel ostracized, I didn't tell anyone about it. I think it went OK, but I'm not sure. By the way, I officially hate the quasi-question "Tell me about yourself." You wanna know about me? You wanna know about me without giving me strict guidelines? Great. My sucker-inner undergarment is digging so far into the skin of my cleavage that I wouldn't be shocked by a sudden blood stain appearing on my shirt. Aren't you glad you asked?

I was late for my appointment with my insurance compay. I had somehow missed December's payment (I have two things with them and I remember making the first payment over the phone, and I remember making the second phone call...but I don't remember finishing it) so my insurance was on hold. Lovely. So I had to write a check for the remainder of my checking account balance. Sweet.

My day continued as crappy as it began.

At 10:15 p.m. I walked out to my car in the middle of a deserted parking lot. I reached in my pocket for my car key. Nothing. I reached into my purse for my car key. Nothing. I searched the ground. Nothing. I started to cry for the third time today.

I dumped out the entire contents of my purse for all the world to see (that means something. Not everyone gets to be privy to the fact that I regularly carry six ChapSticks, a Wendys spoon, three sets of chopsticks, and enough bobby pins to create a shelter for the evening.) A woman, who had been helping me look for my key, let me use her cell phone to call Jayar. I sat on the ground with my back against George's driver side door and bawled--fully aware of the mascara streaks that were congregating at the point of my chin.

The woman, Lynn, wouldn't leave me until I had a security guard waiting for Jayar with me. I tried to convince her I would be OK, but she insisted. My Little Spanish Security Guard (MLSSG) stood with us while Lynn said goodbye. She apologized to me that MLSSG didn't speak much English. I told her, "Nah, I'm pretty antisocial, this'll work out best for me." She laughed. The moment Lynn drove away MLSSG, in his broken English, told me that he was going to make his rounds, but he'd come back later. Hahaha. So much for that.

I sat against a pole for about twenty minutes, crying until I felt I'd run out of fluid. (Hmm, I'm noticing a pattern.)

When I saw Jayar's Mercedes Benz turn the corner I bolted up and grabbed all of my things and jumped in the car, relieved. I started crying again in the car, but Jayar found Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive" (his favorite song) on the radio and blasted it, singing along. I couldn't help but laugh.

I walked in the door at 11:40 p.m. with the biggest tear-induced headache in existence.

Bright spot: I got an unprovoked "Good morning" and a wink from MyExBoyfriend this morning! (I say unprovoked because I didn't even know he was standing there. I was walking a completely different direction than where he was standing, I wasn't going to cross his path nor were we going to exchange requisite glances.) I've said it before and I'll say it again; I know we broke up and all, but dang, the man looks great in black.

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