(no subject)

I woke up early today (omg, urge to call in sick OVERWHELMING) and walked down to the house next door and hung a sign on their door reading "UPS DELIVERY FOR STARBUCK: THIS IS THE WRONG DOOR. GO ONE DOOR DOWN. DEAR OCCUPANTS OF BUILDING: SORRY ABOUT THIS SIGN."

Which seems to cover all the bases unless the UPS driver is illiterate, which would not shock me.

For the last three days, everything I have tried to do from filing will-call to riding the El has fought me tooth and nail. Yesterday I got on the El and after they'd closed the doors someone began banging on one of the cars and wouldn't step away from the doors. The driver had to call security. MEANWHILE, someone in my car was harassing her over the emergency intercom about how he had paid for a train to take him somewhere on time. So she had him arrested too. Then, twenty feet out from the station, they had mechanical troubles which turned a forty-minute El ride into an hour-ten of me trying to avoid giving the guy sitting next to me the impression that I wanted to talk to him. He certainly wanted to talk to me.

I lose my keys, I leave my jumpdrive at work, I rip a hole in my socks. When I try to go shopping, it's Sunday and the shops close at five. When I try to run the postage for our mail, the machine breaks. I went to a McDonalds two days ago, much against my better judgement to start with, and the soda machine was broken. That's not all that strange, I suppose, but check this out: they were out of ketchup. How can you be a McDonalds and be out of ketchup? Why not just close your store at that point until, I don't know, someone can make a Costco run and buy the huge bucket o ketch they sell for like three bucks?

Could just one thing, one thing, please be uncomplicated today?

(no subject)

I bet they give great domestic partner benefits.

(no subject)

This morning UPS failed to deliver my package, so I called to reschedule it for Monday delivery. This evening, an infonotice was left, once again on the BUILDING NEXT DOOR, for my package. It informed me that the next delivery attempt would be...Thursday. Which is intriguing, seeing as how it...is Thursday.

So I've arranged it for Monday, and I'll hang another sign on the door of the building next door. The woman I spoke to this evening got the address wrong again, despite my correcting them a total of three times now. This is beginning to take on the proportions of some kind of absurdist drama.

I was late to work because the train broke down, and my first call of the day was a little old lady who swore at me because the show she wanted was sold out. Later in the day I threw up in the bathroom, either from sheer nerves or from the turkey sandwich I'd had for lunch, I'm not sure.

I poured out my problems to one of the friendly non-box-office staff members and she said to me, "Well, when my life is that bad, I don't bother praying, I just stab my finger so that anyone who's up there can see that they've got my blood and don't need to beat it out of me."

*looks thoughtfully at straight pin*