My Own Personal Grey

One of THOSE Days….

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Ah, today… how you sucked. I mean… serious, sweaty-donkey ball sucakage. Like deep space cosmic implosion suckage. I’m not just saying, here, I’m SAYING: you sucked, Friday February 26. Total, utter, freakin’ suck.

How have you suck’d? Let me count the ways….

You suck’d at midnight when the pressure plummeted half an inch (measly half-inch!) and The Headache decided it really wanted a Vicodin, or four… and all I have is Tylenol with Codeine, (which makes me very weird and… I see things… y’know….) and beats the almighty crap out of my liver.

You suck’d this morning when The Headache did not want to let me out of bed and the pressure water pump made noises like a giant, demon cat with the hairball equivalent of an Everlasting Gobstopper up its snout because the battery bank was at half-charge.

You suck’d when it was raining and I got outside the dock gate before I realized I’d left my meds on the boat’s galley counter and had to go back for them. At least I had my keys. This time.

You suck’d when I discovered my tires were at 30psi when they should have been at 40. And the compressor at the gas station requires a dollar in quarters when I had none. Then it only runs for three minutes, but it takes five to do all four tires. Especially with The Headache looking on.

You suck’d when I arrived at the office to discover the road blocked by a spill response team and streetsweeper that were trying to soak up the several gallons of contaminated gas and oil which had been spilled from somewhere near my office building and out into the street for 4 blocks in each direction.

You suck’d when I finally got to the office and realized the bookmarks I’d picked up the day before weren’t going to cut muster and would have to be reprinted. It’s my fault, but it’s still frustrating and leaves me with no bookmarks for my first pro gig of the year in Eugene next Thursday.

You suck’d when I realized that having no bookmarks, the mailing project I had only today to accomplish before the middle of March would have to go on hold… until the middle of March.

You suck’d when I could no longer look at my computer screen because The Headache had acquired the status of Nauseating.

You suck’d when I left the computer in my office and had to go back for it, renegotiating the ever-spreading scene of The Spill.

You suck’d when I went to pick up the new promo puzzles and had it pointed out to me by the mail guys that there is a tragic and irreparable typo on every one of the 500 units.

You suck’d when my artist thought it was her fault and it wasn’t; because the layout person at the printer had modified the file without cause, but I was too busy worrying about other details to check the spelling of a word I’d submitted correctly spelled in the original art file and OK’d the proof without catching the error.

You suck’d because I forgot to call a friend and make a date.

And you suck’d because I still don’t have my delivery and acceptance check for the new manuscript, and I now have $1,000 worth of promo items that are worthless.

Oh, Friday, how you suck’d!

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