I dreamt last night about operating a movie theater in New Orleans that was constantly infested with insects, lizards, and rodents.
I woke up late and had to email work to tell them I'd be about an hour late.
I opened my breakfast yogurt and a blob of it splattered on to my shirt.
I realized later in the morning that I was unsuccessful in preventing yogurt from causing a stain.
Lunchtime approaches. My lunch plans consist of obnoxious but already over procrastinated errands.
+3 anxiety per minute
Co-worker's phone rings again, while she is away from her desk.
+3 irritation for each dropped "g" in "Don't Stop Believin'"
Ten minutes closer to lunch, I get an email from HR about a day I was out sick this week.
Someone I need to talk to is not answering my messages.
~I decide to blow off the errands yet again in order to spend my lunch break picking up my refill for Xanax, and getting a donut or something.~
Just as it's my turn at the pharmacy window, a very old man shuffles to the window, either oblivious to or not giving a crap about the concept of a line. Old man has several questions, not just about the pills but about how this thing called "insurance" works, does not have a Value Card but would like to get one, and pays with a check.
+5 irritation, multiplied by the old man's age, which I estimate to be about 172.
Get back to my apartment, where the hallways are being painted. "Don't worry, we're almost done." = "We are now painting right around your door."
For some reason, part of the painting process includes running a JACK HAMMER right outside my door for about 100 hours.
I take a Xanax, watch some Top Chef, and eat a donut.
+13 overall goodwill for mankind
Final ThoughtsYou know what I like? I like trees. Even in the winter, without leaves. It reminds you that the sky is there for us to breath. I also really like gum. And pencils. Especially pencils. There's a subtle beauty to the gradual exposure of the pencil's core. From the slick school bus yellow skin (what a great color to pick for pencils), to the earthy wood that smells like ideas, to the soft lead we use to bleed our souls onto paper. Dixon Ticonderoga 1388 - 1 EX-SOFT. Let's all take a moment to appreciate a pencil.