My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (Or, Perhaps I've Exaggerated a Bit)

It's funny, I started out the week in a pretty good mood - you know, not wishing death on everyone who crossed my path - but now? I want to set people on fire.

I'm hot!

I think that my driving to work in the morning has contributed to this general feeling of murderous rage - people just shouldn't drive. Only I should be allowed to drive. Okay, so maybe other people should be allowed to drive, but they should have a warning beacon in their cars as I approach, alerting them to pull over to the side of the road and assume the fetal position. I don't even want to see their hands shaking on the steering wheel as I pass.

Plus, you know, the Focus is a pretty bad-ass automobile. People cower in fear when they see it bopping down the road.

Rawr!

So I start the day by getting in my car, popping on the Detroit radio station that barely registers, as Ann Arbor is just a little too far away and is a city of trees and hills (carved out by glaciers!), and I hear about every sixth word from the morning show people. Being stuck on the road behind people driving ten mph under the speed limit and coming to complete stops at intersections where there are no stop signs starts my blood boiling. It's enough to give me an aneurysm, I swear. Or a sore throat, from screeching at them to MOVE THE FUCK ON.

Then I get to my morning job, which, while a temp job, is actually pretty fulfilling. And I love the people who work here. Well, except for the woman who bathes in perfume every morning. She walks by my desk - or even within twenty yards of my desk - and I am guaranteed a headache for the rest of the day. It's BAD old lady close-to-death perfume, and she's not even old!

At 11:45, I leave. I head to my car, and the sidewalk from the building is this meandering thing that probably wastes a good 30 seconds of my time when I could have just gone straight. Obviously this is something to get angry about.

Path of Huge Fucking Waste of Time

Then I drive to my house. My home is four miles from work, yet it takes forever to get there due to noon o'clock traffic. And goddamn construction. Construction is everywhere, and there is absolutely no avoiding it. There are two good routes that I could take from work to home, and both are wrought with terror.

I get home. My mail has usually arrived, which means, more often than not, that I have a fucking bill. So that makes me angry. Then I try to eat something for lunch, but I realize that I have nothing in my fridge because I forgot to go grocery shopping with the money that I don't have. So lunch at home tends to end the same way:

Mmmm... sodium.

I leave ten minutes early to catch the bus, and the walk is lovely. But the bus is full of smelly, unshowered people. Well, maybe they've showered, but like, six days ago. The driver is slow and gets us stuck at each and every light - something that could have been avoided if he had been DRIVING THE SPEED LIMIT.

When the bus arrives downtown at the Transit Center, I have a half mile to walk. This is not a problem. I like to walk. When I lived in DC, I walked everywhere.

I had to. I didn't have a car.

Obviously there are shortcuts,
and this map doesn't show my inevitable stop at the coffeehouse,
but you get the idea.

It's a nice walk, but at that time of day, directly into the sun, and since I'm supposed to wear my stupid glasses more often than not, it's a squintastic journey. Sometimes I wear my regular sunglasses and stow my glasses for the walk, trying to be aware of the difference between red and green lights as well as humans versus empty space.

As I get closer and closer to campus, my desire to murder grows with each step. The leggings, the Uggs, the preppy shirts, the dreadlocks. It's enough to make me want to live in a cave.

Then I get to work, do work, and leave at 5:00. You'd think that this is where my attitude would have adjusted to normal-person levels, but most people don't have to catch the fucking bus in rush hour.

I walk the half mile back to the transit center, which normally gives me a few minutes of reading time as I wait for the bus. But lately, with all the CONSTRUCTION, my bus is usually about ten minutes late. Most times, I walk home from there, because what's another mile and a half? But I'm cursing out the bus the whole way. Jerk.

But then I get home. And I relax. And I make popcorn and watch crap television and maybe nap on the couch for a bit. And I realize that life is too short to hate everyone and everything all of the time.

But the next morning, the alarm will jar me awake and the whole vicious cycle begins anew.

(It's possible that I'm PMSing right now.)