*Warning. The post is laden with profanities.
At times, you may need to avert your eyes*
Do you ever have one of those days?
I mean one of THOSE DAYS?
And it all happened in the course of 20 minutes.
If any of you are Instagram followers, you'll now have the details of my cryptic angry note I wrote out at midnight that night.
Ready? Set. Go!
We all know Mondays and Tuesdays I work doubles. And since the state of Oregon thinks I can't be trusted to drive an automobile, and I live 22 miles away, I've been carpooling (aka begging and mooching rides).
Monday morning, boyfriend drops me off at 545 am at Le Coffee Shoppe (yes, Shoppe, cause I'm fancy like that) with my stuff and the bike. I work there in the morning and then at Le Restaurant during the evening, which I manage, and am off at around 11pm. Since I work the next morning again at 6pm, I've started staying in town at a friend's apartment. Biking the mile there, and then back again in the morning. Think of all the gas I'm saving!
This also means that I have to get all my shit, for two days, packed and put together Sunday evenings.
Cut to Le Restaurant. I have to wait for the dishwashers to finish before I lock up. This usually involves me sitting around for an hour playing on Facebook and Instagram. Waiting. Waiting.
Well this night, Eddie was feeling most-unproductive and took an extra 40 minutes to finish up. Can you say milking the clock? I finally closeup and get my bag and bike all ready to go, head down the stairs and feel for my key.
My fucking keys.
My fucking keys that are on the fucking break table at the fucking-fuck coffee shop.
Its 11:30 pm.
So. Not only can I not get into my friends apartment TO SLEEP. But I can't get INTO WORK IN THE MORNING.
Fuck! Fucking fuck fuck fuck!!!!!!
Side note :: At any normal job, I could come into work with the cook, who is also scheduled at 6am. But since our cook is thinks he can do whatever he wants, he usually strolls in at 6:20. This WOULD be a funny way to let the owner know how late he always is, but I don't wanna be a narc, and also get myself into trouble. He'll get his, someday. Oh yes, someday.
Whats really funny is, these businesses are literally 2 blocks apart. I'm SO CLOSE, yet so far away.
I text an co-worker who might be awake.
I text another.
I text another.
Just when I'm about to freak out, someone gets back to me and offers to come let me in.
BLESS YOU MY CHILD!
So I peddle on over to Le Coffee Shoppe and meet her and grab my fucking keys off the fucking fuck break table. We laugh at me, lock up and say good-bye. Oh won't this be a funny story.
I look at my keys and about to put them in my pocket, and bike the mile to friend's apartment.
When I notice.
Friend's apartment key isn't there.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
Oh no. I gave that key along with my P.O. box key to MY MOM when she checked my mail.
I'm the most brilliant fucking person in the universe.
This is where I almost start crying.
Its now midnight.
I can call boyfriend and have him come get me. Or even bring me the keys to her apartment. But I know he's been asleep for hours. Plus, he'd have to get up and drive a half our, get me, drive another half hour!
I text him my situation. I figure if he offered I'd let him, but I felt really bad punishing him for my stupidity.
I say FUCK IT! And decide to stay at a hotel. There's one a few blocks away. Its a Travel Lodge, it should be cheap, right!?
Even ghetto hotels cost SIXTY FUCKING DOLLARS in this town.
Meanwhile boyfriend is asking if that's the best rate? I should check the internet... blah blah blah. I'm pretty sure the conversation went like, "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. ITS MIDNIGHT. I'M ON A BIKE. I JUST REALIZED I DIDN'T EAT DINNER. I DON'T HAVE THE LUXURY TO CHECK EXPEDIA FOR THE BEST DEAL. I'M OVERREACTING AND TAKING IT OUT ON YOU VIA TEXT MESSAGE THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"
|This is not an exaggeration.|
I claimed poverty and stupidity, and the sweet Indian lady laughed awkwardly at me, and got me a $20 discount for God Knows What.
Either way it still cost me $50 to me a moron.
She tells me to take the hallway down and my room is on the left. I can't find the hallway, so I end up walking all the way around the building. Oh, there's the hallway.
I collapse on the bed and can't tell whether or laugh or cry. I text boyfriend, who bless his heart can only say "I'm sorry you're having a bad night." He knows better than to interact when I'm spazzing out.
I brush my teeth and go to bed, as my stomach growls. Stupid stomach.
On the bright side, at least I didn't get bed bugs.
Its okay to laugh now.
I know I am.
On another bright side, I'm now running 32 straight minutes and my 5K is Saturday! Whoop!