Let me tell you, Alexander's day was a walk in the park compared to my Wednesday. Seriously.What's worse is that I woke up hearing birds chirping, smelling fresh cut grass from outside and ate the most awesome bagel for breakfast. So much hope and promise for a wonderfully wonderful day. Now I know I was being set up.
I went allllll the way to Midwood for an appointment that turned out to be less than fruitful, and that started a domino effect of crappiness. A lot was riding on the Midwood appointment and it was devastating that it didn't work out. Not to mention that I LOATHE that neighborhood anyway. And it was 35 million degrees outside.
And then I had a 10:30 phone conference with Massa about some upcoming projects, and when I called he wasn't even there. Rude, much? Don't make an appointment with me and then not be there. That's why his business is failing- he's always falling through on his word and shit.
Then I got a very nice rejection letter from the editor of a magazine telling me they went with another candidate. And every job ad I looked at today, honestly, was BENEATH me. Sorry if that makes me sound like a snob but it's the truth. But it was 3:30 and I knew I'd be home soon and on my way to the Mets game shortly after except NOPE. Another meeting ran until after 5pm and I still had to go home before heading back to Flushing.
At first I resolved that since Johan wasn't pitching it was okay to miss the beginning of the game, but then the F-train decided to act brand new because some idiot was sick at 7th Avenue. So we were going over the D line which was annoying but okay because that line still stopped near me. But then at 36th Street they decide no, no, this is now the N-train. FOR REAL, THO? I was only one stop away from home and they switched the route. Awesome.
So I had to get off there, wait for another train and at 9th Avenue wait for the slow ass bus filled with loud Asians and unruly Mexican children. One particular child almost got slapped but I settled for the side eye. By this time it was nearly 7:00 and I still had to cook for the babies before I headed to CitiField. Which meant I wasn't going to Citifield...because it's like 1.5hrs away IF the trains are running right which, I already knew, was not the case.
THEN I went to the McDonald's to get some cookies because lord knows I needed something to be good in my life...but of course the 1,448 morbidly obese people in line in front of me were ordering one of everything on the menu. All I wanted were three lousy oatmeal raisin cookies. Le sigh.
I finally get home- too late for the Mets game (and too late for the writers' meeting in BedStuy that I was originally supposed to be attending before Josh told me of the Mets game) and the kids had all their shit spread all over the floor and the apartment was hotter than outside and I got so much hateful, threatening mail from people demanding shit from me that I don't have and I still had to cook dinner. And my feet hurt. And I hadn't eaten a real meal all day.
So please excuse me, Alexander, if I take your crown as Queen of the Worst Day Ever and book my one way ticket to Australia on your mother's credit card.
The End.
*smooches...glad to have had a half bottle of shiraz in the fridge*
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and even though my babies give good hugs and the wine and cookies helped and the new adventures of old christine was freaking hysterical, i cannot reiterate enough how much it sucks to be the only adult in the house with the weight of what feels like the world on my shoulders.
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