Aaaalll By Myself


all by myself


Day One go off to a GREAT start, you guys. Seriously. Stellar.

I got lost on my way to the grocery store. The one right by my house, the one I go to all the goddamned time. I was maybe a mile away from home and suddenly I was taking a wrong turn and found myself on that weird circular street in my town that just goes around and around the circular park. (There’s an egg-shaped park, too, but I don’t think it was that one)
So I pulled over and asked my phone to help me find the nice place with the people who have the carrot muffins and the good yogurt, and the instructions were: “Take your third left; your destination is right in front of you.”

Bitchy phone, getting smart with me when I’m tired.



He didn’t see the problem with our arrangement

I got about 2½ hours last night, much of that spent waking up and wondering if I’d slept at all, if I’d slept through my alarm, if the dog was still on the bed with me and if there was any way to convince him to turn around or at least stop farting.

After the grocery, I needed to pick up a prescription from the vet. They did some redecorating since the last time I was in, so I literally stalled at the counter and was about to excuse myself for having walked into entirely the wrong building when they greeted me (lots of animals, I’m a familiar face)


ME:  You changed some things back there.
RECEPTIONIST:  Yeah, we got the new storage and cabinets and new floors!
ME:  Oh, yeah, floors. Sorry, 2 ½ hours sleep.  Little spacey.
RECEPTIONIST:  Awwww.  So you’re picking up for—
ME:  Hey, did you change the floors?  They’re all different.  Everywhere.
RECEPTIONIST:  (laughing) yeah, new floors. Let me go get—
ME:  (looking down)  It’s kinda freakin’ me out.  What is this stuff?
RECEPTIONIST:  It’s that ‘wood-look’ laminate, easy to clean.  Let me go…. Check on something…. (clearly wanders off to have a laugh about my condition)
ME:  (eyeballing New Girl)  So you’re new too.
NEW GIRL:  Yep, it’s my first day.
ME:  So are you newer than the floors?


At this point, one of the vets came out to see what the hell my problem was. The receptionist came back and explained, so now they just think I’m funny instead of some sort of drunken mental patient.

They also suggested that maybe I shouldn’t be driving.



Probably should have let him drive.




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