October 06, 2005
Things haven't been going so well around here lately...Last week, The Boy was sick and thus I am now sick as well. Ya ever try to make sense out of twenty pages of Immanuel Kant?
No.
You haven't because no one in their right mind would ever read Kant unless the pages were forced upon them as a means of relentless torture because you kidnapped some asshole's beloved mutt face Muffy. Having said this, please disregard the fact that I'm basically paying some poor sap (who somehow found time in their mundane life to understand it in the first place) to teach this shit to me. Now, if you will, please try to imagine this most gruesome bit of torture (i.e. reading Kant) combined with a little massive head trauma (i.e. the way my f'ing forehead feels right now) and you'll basically have the gist of my glorious week.
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I breathed a deep sigh of relief as my co-worker, and fellow collegian, walked out the front door at work after being laid off. The guy to my left said something about how I was lucky it wasn't me...
That was just before the boss called me over to his desk.
With as cheerful and sunny a smile as I could muster, I gleefully inquired,
"Am I next, am I next?!"
The boss sort of sat back in his seat and frowned.
"Yes, I'm afraid so, Laura. The numbers last month revealed that blah blah blah blah blah and that we're just not blah blah blah blah but we'd like you to consider blah blah blah blah."
All I heard was that I was fucked. That's right. F U C K E D.
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Mac, the largest of my two stupid cats (and quite possibly the largest house cat this side of Africa), somehow managed to creep into the bedroom the other morning. Just having got out of bed, I had not yet inserted my contacts and could not quite see said stupid feline. I got on my hands and knees, checked under the bed and mistook the corner of the bed sheets for his tail. Barely aware, I grabbed the corner of the sheets with all the power of my sick little body and yanked as hard as I could.
I managed to topple the entire contents of the bed onto my person -- including the 700 ton comforter The Boy recently purchased, two pillows and two non-pillows (decorative pillows not used for repose but rather carefully disguised in what is called a 'pillow sham') -- and scare the cat enough to make him retreat into my closet full of fur sensitive clothing. After tripping over the blue sea of comforter and knocking over an untouched, mega tumbler of water, I was able to scare the cat out of the bedroom by violently hacking up my left lung in his general direction.
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The Boy somehow managed to run over his cell phone in our parking lot the other day. The day after he received his replacement phone, he somehow managed to drop it into the toilet at work. I couldn't help but think that this had something to do with the bad luck surrounding my pitiful, sick world lately and when he mentioned that he was retrieving one of my text messages when it slipped into the bowl of water, I was altogether confirmed in this belief.
"You were checking your messages while taking a leak?!"
"Well..."
"Ew."
I have a stove that never ceases to run (a clever person would call this the pilot light, but I rarely attend any events that require the use of a stove). One would think that this is something of a hazard these days, but when you really need to dry something, it actually seems like a small blessing (a small blessing with the potential to kill). We put the phone on the stove to allow it to dry over night. This seemed to work as The Boy text messaged me from work the next day. There was much rejoicing.
Until it stopped working today.
So now I'm sitting at home alone, staring at what would be my Mexican Get Well Dinner if The Boy were here to dazzle me with his excellent stoving skills, while he is out at the US Cellular store making up some excuse as to how his girlfriend foolishly dropped his phone into the toilet.
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Stupid Packers...