One of Those Days
Yesterday, things were OK at first and then they went spectacularly in the crapper. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration – my grandfather used to say “it’s a bad storyteller who can’t improve upon the story”. More or less directly translated from the Danish, so pardon the slight inelegance of the saying. “Det er en daarlig fortaeller som ikke kan goere en historie bedre” sounds much better, but I suspect very few of you would understand it.
Got my place cleaned with no incidents. Then I left the house. That was my first mistake. Clearly, I should have hermitted. Yes, it’s a verb. In my world, anyway.
Go to get my shot, get in the elevator. Elevator gets stuck between ground and second floor. Did I mention I’m claustrophobic? I try to not hyperventilate (mostly unsuccessfully) as I’m stuck for what seems like days (in reality, more like 10 minutes). Wait at doctor’s for shot, she runs late, have to come back. Pop to grocery store to pick up jam – my favourite jam. Jam that’s not so sweet you get insulin shock from having it on a piece of toast. Hero jam. Grocery store doesn’t carry it anymore. BASTARDS! Go home, muttering to myself, automatic door opener on front door of building not working. Wait outside for several hours (ok, minutes) to accost a stranger to open the door for me. Am at least somewhat grateful that it’s noon instead of midnight, at which time it gets unnerving to accost strangers to open doors for you. Ask me how I know this.
Go back upstairs, upgrade my iPod. Why I had the guts to do that on such a day is beyond me, but it seemed to have worked alright. Back for shot at 2, one hour later find out that Enbrel and ragweed season are so not compatible. It was at this point that I decided to call it a day and start over. Today, so far, so good. Of course, it’s fairly early yet…
p.s. I believe this post is what’s commonly referred to as “phoning it in”. We’re having Danish visitors and I don’t have time (or brainpower) for something scintillating.