The other evening I dropped a compact of pressed powder on the bathroom floor. (I don’t use pressed powder. My make-up routine is all of 2 products – Boots No. 7 true identity foundationand a good pair of tweezers for these oddly curly eyebrows. I use the compact mirror to pluck the unruly brows.) But when that compact hit the floor and ivory powder spread in clumps impossible to pick up before smushing into the tile grout, I was on the verge of frustrated tears.
Then I was putting clothes away and slammed my funny bone into the door frame that sent my nerve endings a nice jolt. Frustration. Hate the world. Tears.
I didn’t get into any labs this semester. This will prevent me from moving any further until Spring of 2010 (mind you, I’m going to do as much as I can despite this and despite course pre-requisites, eff pre-requisites I say.) Frustration. Hate the world. Now I’m just pissed off.
And Jack? He has a new trick that involves him being able to pee on his own head when he’s scared. (For the record, I love my retarded dog.)
It has been a solid 2-3 weeks of me being very pissed off when I get off of work and have to go home. And it’s draining. And today – I cried in the BART station. I know, it’s a big fat pity party. Barely a few tears, but that’s enough to turn my whole face red and keep the girl in the stupid red beret staring at me. (Right? I was totally staring back because, seriously, a red beret?) But thoughts and doubts started racing, and I can only hope this is because I am ovulating BIG time, but my eyes welled up and before I realized crap I’m in a public place I was trying to let a tear run over my finger so it wouldn’t streak my face.
So there. I’m stuck in a pity party. And when I come out, hopefully I will have prettier things to say. Because nothing beats a blog post where I appreciate the world a little bit more after having written about a great day.