Everything wrong

What do you do when you have a day where you do everything wrong??

Everything wrong:

-- Allergies have decided to kick my ass, despite never having had major allergic reactions to anything besides cats, up until the time I unwittingly overexposed myself to their dander by living in a (previously) cat-infested home. (It was discovered later that the previous owner probably hoarded them and they used the carpeting in lieu of a litter box. Good times, that first home.)

-- So I haven't slept in 2 days because who can sleep when the business of nose-blowing is paramount? Ripping tissues out of a tissue box is a 24-hour occupation. No joke. When I finally did drift off, dreams of rivers of snot danced in my head. Needless to say, I woke up very refreshed.

-- I got to work later than I wanted and paid $3 for coffee because fuckit.

-- There is no food in this house that isn't disgustingly healthy. Goddammit.

-- Visualizing exercise isn't working.

-- I couldn't figure out how to remove a hyperlink in Excel so I took that opportunity to look up both my ex's new baby online AND my new boyfriend's ex online, just for extra shitty curiosity points. (The baby is cute and so is the ex and I only actually feel good about one of those things.)

-- I'm spending $2,000 in two days to have someone fucking install insulation so I don't have to live in what feels like a tent next February. And because I don't *have* that money (due to the numerous self-indulgent coffee splurges) I'm taking on a temporary roommate to help me pay for it. Intern X will be moving in at the end of the month. Better be worth it.

-- I miss writing. Maybe I don't need to lament about my love life as much as I used to but there seems to be no shortage of other shitty things I can tease out to make others feel great about their own lives.

-- My car is simultaneously flaking out on brakes AND making a noise, that, when I told my dad, he uttered the words "possibly the transmission" and I stopped hearing anything that came next because I was too busy calculating whether to trade it in, wait until it turned into a fiery ball of metal while zooming up the interstate, or court the latest batch of Craigslist serial killers (since the roommate search has finally concluded). Decisions, decisions.

Everything right:

-- I finally achieved the right shade of fake tan on my legs so I can wear a skirt without pantyhose and hide my spider veins.


(Sent from my phone)