I’ll Be at the Bar

Let the record reflect that yesterday was much harder than it needed to be.

I want to be clear about that.

But first! Let’s not kid ourselves – I know why you’re here. It’s the iPod, isn’t it? Word has gotten out that my iPod, set on shuffle and played during my morning commute, has the ability, nay, the power, to foretell the future.

Let’s get to it, shall we?

Hold On, Hold On by Neko Case
Ace of Spades by Motorhead
Helter Skelter by The Beatles
Earth Intruders by Bjork
Undestructable by Gogol Bordello
She’s Hearing Voices by Bloc Party
Namaste by Beastie Boys

The iPod has spoken and things are looking weird, my friend. I suggest you stay indoors, take a number of bubble baths, and avoid mirrors.

The iPod does us this service, asks little in return, and like mysteries such as the Nazca lines, oven pre-heating, and those rubber dryer balls, is largely a combination of interpretation and the willingness to believe.

That said, where the heck was my iPod heads-up yesterday?

Thursday officially started just moments after 6:00. Distracted by a second coat of mascara and Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) running from me to the fridge, me to the fridge in the mistaken belief that I would pour a little half-and-half into her bowl, I left the house three minutes later than I usually do and found myself unable to cross the road in time for my bus.

If a woman sighs and there’s no one around to hear it, will someone buy her chocolate anyway?

I pride myself on my ability to adapt, to know when, as my grandfather would say, to come in from out of the rain. Absolutely hours and hours of Girl Scout training had taught me to sew beads, put my dirty dishes in a mesh bag when washing them in a stream, to align myself with a Boy Scout whenever possible, and to make use of available time. Surely I could use this unplanned-for delay to my advantage.

The next 20 minutes were spent standing in a three-sided enclosure, waiting for the next bus to arrive. I distracted myself by rubbing my thumb against the Sharpie-ed name of some graffiti-loving twit until it disappeared.

Sl33py P33 W33 is not allowed to write his name on my bus enclosure.

I arrived at work without further incident.

The 10:30 bathroom break I took added another dimension to the day when I discovered that a number of my undergarments were on inside out.

We’ll delve no further into that.

An hour later, I was 30 minutes into the creation of a rather large and highly manipulated spreadsheet when a power surge turned my computer screen black.

Good thing I had saved it 25 minutes earlier.

The rest of the day was a blur of modifications, of discovering I’d done some things right and other things – well, we’ll delve no further into that, either.

Some days are just so much harder than others.

Come back tomorrow and we’ll discuss weekend serving jobs, black pants and white shirts, and what you’d give to clear the tables of a couple hundred people.

Happy Friday, everyone.