the day I felt like homer simpson
Let’s talk about today. Today was a cesspool of SUCK. We’ve been having a staff retreat all week (which is why I’ve been MIA from the internet) and today was the last official day. I got to sleep in which was the only decent thing that happened. It was downhill from there… snowballing downhill.
I had stayed Tuesday night at a coworker’s house so I could be close to the office since we were going to have crazy hours during the staff retreat. However, yesterday I decided I just wanted to sleep in my own bed with my boy and my cat, so I just left without all my stuff still at her house. That meant I didn’t have a toothbrush or deodorant or makeup. I picked up a toothbrush, toothpaste, bottle of water, and cheapo deodorant on my 70 mile trek. I brushed my teeth in my car. I am the epitome of a class act.
I drove an hour and a half to meet the rest of the staff at a nuclear facility (true freaking story) where we were slated to tour it. At the security checkpoint (which was insanely thorough!) the security guard told me my tire was going flat. Fabulous. I noticed a gas station down the road and decided to fill it on my way back to the office. The nuclear tour was actually pretty awesome, but hard hats and I don’t agree. Even though I look hot as hellllll in a hard hat, it just wouldn’t stay on my head. It may or may not have fallen off while I was been scanned for radiation. Embarrassing. After the very cool tour, I headed to the gas station only to discover a SCREW in my tire. Not a nail. No, you’d expect a nail. A SCREW facing the WRONG way. The head had gotten lodged in my tire and the screwy part was sticking out. What the hell?
Here’s a little secret – my dad sells tires nationally so I’m never THAT nervous when something happens to my car. I know, no matter where I am, he has a client somewhere close. And guess what – he has a client three miles from my office. I got my tire patched quickly and had to head back to the remainder of the staff retreat. Bummer.
Finally, I drove out of my way to pick up my crap from my coworker’s house only to find that her cleaning lady has done SOMETHING with the towel I brought from home. D’oh. Oh well, we have more than one towel and it’ll surface eventually. I know where she works.
However, the best part of the day? Probably my phone dying with a flat tire. Probably the best thing ever.
So here I am, HOME, with my boy and my cat. Exactly where I need to be. I might be standing on the brink of a freakin’ nervous breakdown but on the other side of this precipice is a silver lining in the shape of Las freakin’ Vegas.
And can we just clear something up? I don’t own anything scandalous to wear in Vegas. I’m not out to impress anyone. Instead, I will be the school marm in loafers. (Almost. I own flip flops.) My self confidence just isn’t high enough to rock a sleevless shirt and/or skirt above my knees. But seriously, for those of you going to Vegas, can you promise not to judge me and my Old Navy/Target ensembles? And will you promise to still hang out with me even though I might look like your grammar school librarian? K, thanks.
PS Homer Simpson works at a nuclear plant in Illinois. Love it.