so, wednesday, amiright?
Yesterday was a crummy day. I'm not here to whine about it, but I am here to tell you about it. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I live a first world life, and these are my first world problems.
My day started off training interns. They were very nice, but one of the girls does her long, thick, gorgeous hair up every day like a southern debutante, and she is always wearing red lipstick and perfectly winged eyeliner. And she is in COLLEGE. My own eyeliner is smudged at all times, and the one time I wore red lipstick, it ended up all over my mouth and on my teeth. And I had the nerve to train her. Granted, I was training her on all things law firmy, but girlfriend has more game in her one layer of red lipstick than I've had in my whole life. It all looked so flawless and natural that I have no choice but to believe she came out of the womb all done up that way. I was mesmerized by it all, and I'm not even a lipstick kind of girl. And in college? You were lucky if I showed up to class with jeans on, let alone mascara. And at 25, my eyeliner is a $2 tube of Rimmel and my red lipstick a cherry tootsie pop.
Several hours of training later, my mouth hurt from talking. It actually hurt. That's how little talking I do, apparently. It felt like my mouth had been doing push ups. But what was worse is that while I was training them, I got an email from Fob. FOB. He responded to a question of mine (it took many pep talks from myself to myself in order to send him an email, what with the whole making a fool of myself in from of him and all, and no, I'm still not over it.) He was very kind, but he was essentially saying "Michelle, do you even know what you're talking about?" Turns out, I did, and later so did he, but that first response gave me the nervous sweats.
The rest of the day went by like all days do: I almost strangled the girl who wouldn't stop rattling her keys (20 MINUTES NONSTOP I COUNTED) and the guy 5 feet away who wouldn't quit coughing and hacking things up (ALL DAY LONG I COUNTED), and then I accidentally knocked a really large picture off the wall. That along with many other things had me very cranky by the time I got home. I talked it all out with James once I got home, and I was starting to feel better when James asked me if I bought something off Zappos.
"No!" I said. "I haven't bought anything!"
"Are you sure? Because there's a charge on our bank account..."
I think you can see where this is going. Once I calmed down from that, we decided to eat dinner and watch some more Psych on Netflix.
THE APPLE TV. IT WOULDN'T WORK. Which I managed to fix a few hours later, BUT STILL. Meltdown mode initiated.
Not ten minutes later there was major food spillage all over our brand new couch. I don't want to point fingers, but for once IT WASN'T ME.
The struggle, my friends, is very real.