Why Bad Days Are Awesome.

I enjoy bad days. 

In a weird, convoluted, strange way, I like it when I have a bad day, because it puts things in perspective. 

Today was one of those stupid days where it’s just one thing after another. Plans get made, shifted, messed up, people are dumbasses, as they often are, and there you are, stuck in the middle, desperately trying not to scream. 

I didn’t sleep for shit last night, and for some horrible, horrible reason, I win the prize of having to come in an hour earlier on Fridays than during the rest of the week, so I was already cranky to start off. 

So I get my morning coffee (PS: I CAN SEE WHEN YOU DON’T MAKE MY DRINK NON-FAT) and they fucked up my order. 

Get to work, nothing really remotely good happens, I wind up having to work way later than the original schedule said, I spent the entire time mostly just dealing with idiots, and not even the fun, crazy, hilarious story kind, just the incessantly needy. I hate the incessantly needy ones. I think it’s because I’m so efficient, so it drives me insane when people have to ask 489 trivial and obvious questions, especially when all of the answers can be found online. 

Then, because of how the schedule wound up today, I wound up missing the only night I had to see the show I’d planned on seeing, which made me even more frustrated because I have really, really great friends in that show, and I was really looking forward to going to see them and FINALLY getting to actually SEE some theatre. Thanks to the magic of having to work on a schedule greatly impacted by other people, that got fucked to hell, and since I didn’t go to the show, I felt awkward going to the after-party, so I came home and I realized how fantastically horrible the house had gotten, and since we’re hosting Thanksgiving, I spent all night cleaning up and doing laundry.

At one point I stopped and attempted to get some work done on my set model that I’ve been trying to put together, but I am hilariously inept at building models, so it turned into a sad 1st grade art project reject looking thing. 

Plus, Jake had to work at Sportz tonight, meaning that I didn’t get to see him at all, and after we ate dinner he had to go right to bed, because he has some band thing on Saturday, meaning that I won’t see him all day tomorrow, either. 

And now I can’t sleep. 

So I’m sitting here, and I’m being all grumpy and pissed at the world, and I had this revelation. 

I didn’t get stabbed today. 

I didn’t get stabbed, shot, raped or in anyway maimed today.

The worst part of my day consisted of trying to explain rental policy to an irate Indian woman with an incomprehensible accent. 

It’s not exactly comforting, but I suppose, what I’m trying to say, is that things could be entirely worse. I could have lost my job, or my house, or my friends or Jake or any number of things that actually matter…and a failed art project and a 2% milk latte isn’t the end of the world. 

There will be other shows, and other parties, and I still have the things around me that actually matter. 

And At the end of the day, no one stabbed me. 

Some days, that’s really the best you can do. 


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