How so many annoying situations could occur in one week is beyond me.
I went to a bar to watch the Colts game. At the two-minute warning, I decided I HAD to break down and go to the restroom. In haste, I spun around, flushed, opened the stall door and out of the corner of my eye, saw that my ID was in the toilet.
I felt my back pocket and my credit card was gone, too. It was nowhere to be found ... I went to check around my barstool, the traveled path to the restroom ... gone.
That, of course, was my only method of payment. I managed to explain the situation to the bartender, who agreed to let me leave my ID (my VERY well-washed ID) as good faith that I would return to pay.
It also had started raining, and I didn't have my umbrella. I ran back the five or so blocks to my apartment, got my debit card, and on the way back to the bar, called to cancel the missing card.
It was a pretty cold rain coming steadily down now, and the woman with the credit card company wouldn't stop asking questions ... do I think it was lost or stolen, how I lost it, where I lost it, etc., etc., to which I finally exasperatedly told her, "Look, I think I flushed it down the toilet." She responded, "Oh, well I guess it's secure." Ha. Yeah, I guess so.
Good thing the Colts pulled out the win because I obviously didn't see the last two minutes of the game ... and my mini-buzz was completely killed. Boo.
Pretty run-of-the-mill day, though it was very annoying to watch the Ravens choke and die at the end of their game against the Patriots.
That damn pigtail headache ...
I woke to the first snow of the winter. On one hand, I loved it; on the other, I realized it was the one weekday in months I had to drive. Great.
The evening started with the trains being backed up, so I was 10 minutes late to begin my car reservation. When I got to the block the car resides at ... walking in heavy snow ... there it sat with AT LEAST four inches of snow piled on top. Gr.
I cleared the car off as fast as I could go in my skirt and stiletto heels ... how I didn't end up on my ass, I don't know ... and arrived to pick my dad up for dinner 35 minutes late.
We had a nice meal, but then all hell REALLY broke loose.
We stopped off at Harris Teeter at my dad's request, which was fine because I needed Diet Pepsi anyway. I put the fridgemates in the cart, walked over to the register and reached into my purse for my keys and VIC card.
I'm confused when the keys won't come out of my purse. I looked inside to see what was piled on top of them ... only to find the problem was that the super glue I was toting around to repair a fingernail I had been trying to salvage for two weeks had spilled ... all over the bottom of my purse. How brilliant of me.
My sinking feeling actually turned a little bit to relief because I saw that somehow, the glue hadn't gotten on my camera, earbuds, mp3 player, insulin ... somehow the ONLY thing it was on was the keys.
I was able to rip them off the bottom of my purse with a bit of force. The mailbox key took the brunt of the encounter. My apartment key had just a little bit of glue on the tip ... but the glue was still wet and sat in a pool at the bottom of my purse.
Realizing I had to be able to get into my apartment, I went into super-glue-removing overdrive ... with no regard for my own skin. I moved all the items in my purse away from the pool and started wiping at my house key to try to clear the glue out of the grooves ... while also trying to make sure the other keys don't stick to my fingers.
My dad came back to see what I was doing, and while laughing at me, saw tissues in my purse. Desperate to get the glue dry, I grabbed for one and sopped up the remaining glue.
It was a mess. People were looking at me oddly. My fingers and purse bottom were covered in super-glued tissue. The mailbox key was caked in glue. I hoped my apartment key would work.
I went to pay for my soda, and as she's asking me if I found everything OK, it hit me that I'm no longer holding onto the parking garage ticket I brought in to validate.
I searched through my wrecked purse for five minutes, checked my pockets, looked around everywhere I was in the store. As with the credit card at the bar ... gone. I still have no idea where that damn thing went. And I HATE to lose things.
I was able to sweet talk the parking attendant to let me out for the lowest $2 fee even though I couldn't find the ticket.
My hands felt like I had permanently-encasing gloves on.
The thumbnail the super glue was there for was lost after a two-week fight.
I made it into my apartment with some determination and bruises on the palms of my hands from forcing my key in the door.
I had to see my endocrinologist for prescription changes because of my awful, new health insurance for 2008. My appointment time was 3:30 p.m. She didn't see me until 5:20 p.m.
Georgetown waiting rooms are NOT pleasant places to sit for long periods.
Other patients were complaining about being there two hours after their appointment time.
A baby slung over her mom's forearm came within an inch of throwing up on my foot.
I could hear office workers bitching about the people in the waiting room.
Once I got in there, she completely rushed me through, didn't do half of the usual checks, wrote the prescriptions wrong and the lab was closed by the time I was finished. That means calling her AGAIN for the correct prescription and returning to get blood drawn for my A1c ... um, why was I there wasting three hours of my life again?
"I wanted to talk to you in person, so you WOULDN'T screw up the new scripts, but you still did. Thanks. You don't need to verify for me that I gained four pounds in your half-assed physical, and I really don't like you anyway."
Tonight, I'm off for a holiday party ... hoping nothing out of the ordinary happens. Nothing bad out of the ordinary anyway.