Ajax Bell

Author of the Queen City Boys books

day of fail

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Now, I generally don’t generally give any credence to horoscopes other than Freewill Astrology, but I read them some times.  Today mine said:

When you’re feeling this positive, it’s easy to see how those good feelings might be contagious. Go ahead and spend some time with the people you love. Make them laugh, pass out a whole bunch of hugs and be sure that they all understand that you’d do anything to make them feel good now. Oh, and don’t be surprised if the person you love most teases you into doing their bidding — not that you’ll mind, of course. In all, it’s going to be a romantic, happy day.

How my day actually went:

I stayed up way too late last night.  This morning I was unceremoniously woken up by an unnecessary text message.  Libelle and I had planned to go to breakfast, and we had to go right away (because part of my current miserable oral care routine means I can’t put anything in my mouth for an hour after brushing, so I need coffee and food ASAP in the morning, then brush). So she’s calling me “grumpy bear” and we stumble off to the Biscuit House, get food and coffee and as I wake up I end spending an hour ranting about something upsetting that is only frustrating me more because I have no control over it.

At home, Libelle is getting ready for her fun road trip to Atlanta with Jedlet.  I start work on a couple sewing projects that are almost done.  Libelle leaves and I spend a little bit of time sewing and a lot of time ripping out stitches, and then resewing.  And then ripping out some more stitches.  I gave up for a bit, looked for a skirt pattern and found the PERFECT one.  But it’s in a past Burda World of Fashion magazine, which means I can’t get it with out spending days/weeks/months searching for a copy on Ebay.  Arg!

I had some other errands to run.  I did not run them because I thought it was Saturday. At some point I realized it was not Saturday but also too late in the day to do the things I’d needed to do on Friday. Went straight from cursing myself for not doing them earlier, to cursing myself for , well, not doing them earlier, but in a different way.

And then it was time to get ready for work. Mother Nature thought this would actually be a great time to start my monthlies. Fantastic. (I should also add, though I haven’t spoken of it here, I’ve been having some serious, incredibly painful complications with my teeth.  In addition to everything else, I’ve had just really a lot of pain for the past week. And I’ve been working very hard to ignore it, part of which means not talking about it.)

At the beginning of my shift a friend really pressed me on how I was feeling and I just cracked.  Like actually ran to the bathroom crying.  I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.  Certainly not at work. Effing embarassing.

At the end of the night I’m relaying this to a lovely friend of mine and she wonders why guys don’t get it.  When we (girls) say, “I’m okay” or “I’m fine” in response to “How are you?” and we don’t elaborate that’s code.  It means just drop it and move on. It means we don’t want to talk.  Think about it, every other time you’ve asked how we are, we’ve told you about the tomatoes in our gardens, and our Aunt Edna’s lupus, and the cat scratch on our shin, and the argument we had with our mom, and the dress we are wearing next week to a wedding and which yoga class we just came from.  “I’m fine,” is a conversation ender.  Don’t press it.  Or you might be the one to send a girl running off crying, and hey, no one wants that.

Anyway, I made it through the night.  I feel better (except the mouth pain). I will write it off as a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  I will continue not to give any weight to my horoscopes.  Hey, horoscope, I got your romantic right here, come closer so I can whack you in the nose with it.

(P.S. I made a cranky baby smile tonight, I had a hilarious text conversation with my cousin, I made decent tips tonight, I had bacon for breakfast with Libelle, and the new Oxford American came in the mail.  Silver lining, yeah.)

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