There comes a point with sucky days where things cross the line and go from being ‘frustrating, annoying and horrible’ to being ‘twistedly and almost-enjoyably funny.’ Which is what my day yesterday did. I even found myself hoping for more disasters just for the cheap laughs. (It was a full moon, too, for what it’s worth.)
Now, I had worked a full graveyard shift already, but there was no time to sleep, as I had company coming over in the evening and many, many errands to run since it was my day off.
Things started off with a bang, with me stepping directly into a pile of cat puke in bare feet right after I arrived home from work. Things don’t get much suckier than that, my friends. No, they don’t. Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. Read on.
It was raining. A massive thunderstorm with a heavy rainfall warning in effect. After washing off the cat puke, I went out to pay bills and discovered that although knee-high black rubber boots with 3-inch heels are very Catwoman-esque and definitely fit the criterion for ‘cute-boots’, they are not, in fact, waterproof.
Back home to clean. The vacuum cleaner broke about 5 seconds into the clean-fest after sucking up a cat toy. (Ironic, since without the stupid cats, the vacuuming would have been unnecessary.) Then the store was out of replacement belts for my model. Cat fur would remain on carpet.
Now, you would think that from the way my day was progressing, I would have the sense not to choose this particular day for a makeover. But…some people learn by watching, some learn by reading, and some just have to piss on the electric fence themselves.
I didn’t discover that my shower’s water pressure had been mysteriously reduced to a trickle until I was standing in it with a head full of chocolate-brown hair dye.
And then, also mysteriously, the tension rod holding up my shower curtain suddenly decided it was going on strike. No matter what I did (remember the hair dye slowly running down my back, threatening to leave my skin striped), I could not get the damn thing to go back up. Not that it mattered – it wasn’t like the spray was a big problem, what with the water pressure issues.
After about 800 years, the hair dye was finally rinsed out and my hair conditioned. My now-pitch-black-instead-of-chocolate-brown hair.
Shortly after this, my friend showed up, happily bearing copious amounts of alcohol and cigarettes (I don’t smoke except on occasions such as these). Of course, I only like menthols and those she had brought were not. Of course.
Throw in a texting drama-fest with an old boyfriend and running out of mix and my day was complete.
But if you know anything about me, you know I am a survivor.
Sometime around 2 am, I discovered that regular cigarettes taste just like menthols if you suck a piece of candy cane while smoking. And Tia Maria is delicious mixed with mushed-up mocha soymilk popsicles and crushed ice. Black hair? How very striking, á la Betty Boop/Elizabeth Taylor/Morticia Addams. Add Killers videos and conversation with good friends?
All better. And really, you just gotta laugh.
(Incidentally, both the shower curtain rod and the water pressure were back to normal today. Go figure.)