A Shitty Fucking Day

Had a shitty fucking day yesterday.

I mean a real piece of shit. Working the retail job in old fartville. The ironic thing is a woman that I typically work with on Wednesdays and Fridays - a woman I fucking despise - called in sick. So my first reaction was to jump up and down like Richard Simmons in my short shorts and yahoo my way to heaven.

Figured it would be a good day.

Nope. Fridays are lean on volunteers and yesterday in the afternoon there were none. So the day devolved to me and one other woman manning the store. This meant I had to spend maximum time dealing with customers.

Customers suck.

My workmate left at 5:30, which left me alone with customers for 30 minutes. Hell could be no worse.

I noticed a family shopping with their kids - they had been in the store since 4:30 - four fucking thirty - picking out clothes and piling them on a piece of furniture.

Apparently this is a thing in thrift stores. It happens all the time. People spend hours shopping and then report to the register with 75 articles of clothing. And some dishes. And some toys. And some electronics.

We have one register. As our motto says: "One register - lots of waiting".

Anyway at 5:55 - five minutes before closing time - I hear the dad saying "OK, let's get moving - it's almost closing time". Like he's doing me a fucking favor.

Their shit filled four large bags. In a thrift store, at a couple of bucks a pop - it takes 73,000 articles of clothing to fill four large bags. That's bad enough, but on top of that the mom had to ask questions and pick and choose through the shit. "How much is that? How much have we spent so far? Oh no, I don't want that - I changed my mind. You know what - go ahead and ring it up - I have decided to take it."

Are you fucking kidding me?

I was checking these lowlifes out until 6:20.

I was so agitated it took two nips to get me home.

As I was driving home I come around a bend on 202 and see police lights in the distance. The traffic slows to 30 mph and thank god for that. As I approach the cop car I see a car off the road on its side.

Black ice, baby.

When I drew parallel to the car my rear end kicked out but I held it. I was only going thirty. If I hit that patch going 60, which I was previously, I would have been off the road.

Another mile or two down the road, another police car, another car off the road.

Again, my rear end kicked out but not too bad; I held on.

Finally got home and cancelled our plans to go out for subs.

I tell you this not in an attempt to evoke sympathy - you probably had a shitty day too. We all have shitty days.

Shitty days are the fabric out of which our lives are woven.

I tell you this to get it on the record. To establish facts.

Today I am having a good day. Got the day off. Spent a couple of hours searching for a better paying, more satisfying part time job. Nothing yet.

Now I am indulging my need to write.

Later I am going to check out a bottle of Irish whiskey I bought last night. A brand I've never had before. It was on sale and I had a coupon so I saved $10.

I've been drinking cheap whiskey for months now. Because of the snafu with social security I didn't feel right spending money on Crown Royal. So I have been drinking rot gut. Old Crow. Old Fucking Crow.

My taste buds are burned out. Can't take it anymore. So I upgraded a little last night.

Next week, on 03/08, I am supposed to get my first ss payment in four months.

On that day I will buy myself a bottle of Crown Royal.

On that day I will have an orgasm.