Tuesday 1 May 2018

The terrible, no good day.

Only slightly dramatic title for what really can be boiled down to a hangover, but I digress. Fresh off of an epic, amazing, wonderful bachelorette party - which I will blog about next because it needs its own moment - Monday came hard and fast and I wasn't ready, and what's worse is I feel like as I slide down my late twenties, every time I drink I catch a cold too. Clubs are crawling with germs and I always pick them up. So my ears were plugged, I am coughing and my throat hurts, and my voice is about 3x louder than it should be (on account of the plugged ears), and I sound like I'm a lifelong smoker. Despite my best efforts and the workhorse that is MAC foundation, nothing could hide that my insides were feeling green and not living their best life.

So Monday morning hits me like a ton of bricks, and instead of taking it off - preplanning for my inevitable uselessness - I booked a client meeting. Two hours out of town, in what would be my first official in person meeting and my chance to make a good impression; why wouldn't I plan for that the day after my weekend? Well I didn't, I just didn't look at my day-planner properly and didn't realize until Friday, and by that time it was too late to reschedule. I am nothing if not a professional, and with the wedding being mere weeks away, my time is pretty booked so I needed to get it done. 

I won't get into how it went per se, but the meeting wasn't the best I've ever had. However, if it doesn't challenge you it doesn't change you, and my charm will win out in the end, let's just put it like that. But still, a girl could've been sleeping and having a relaxing coffee instead & it wouldn't have been the worst thing. Who knows, maybe the fact that my voice was 10 times louder than it needed to be didn't help matters, but it's anyone's guess. 

So I begin my trek back home and am down to a quarter tank so I stop to get gas, pay with my credit card and choose the type, then get to filling. Except it took me a solid 60-90 seconds before I realized that my selection hadn't gone through and the gas wasn't pumping - that beeping I could hear was in fact the pump telling me to fucking look alive. I say 90 seconds and I think it was embarassingly longer than that still. Tequila, you beautiful evil liquid, I blame you for this. 

But like any terrible, no good bad day - there's a light to the end of the tunnel. After stopping for groceries which should never been done hungover for the mere fact alone that you WILL get the brand new cashier and she WILL be slow and God damn it Marjorie can you just enter in the code properly so I can get the frig out of here, after that, I was home. And waiting for me at home was an early wedding present from my mom & dad that had been delivered & set up earlier in the day that sang a seductive tune to me as I got out of the car, and whimpered up the stairs. "Climb onto me B, you earned this." "Come for a spin girl, feel what luxury feels like". At age 28, hungover, maybe definitely sick but mostly just complaining, a brand new mattress & bedding has never looked so god damn sexy before. 

And what a wonderful, lovely afternoon from then on it turned out to be.

Was this also an opportunity to try out my new teeny tripod I'm taking to Europe? Maybe, maybe not.