Man, it’s been one of those days.
I woke up 15 minutes before my alarm. But with that incredibly groggy - “man, I hope when I look at the clock I’ll see that I can sleep for another two hours” but then when you do you realize you CAN’T -feeling.
So I reset my alarm for half an hour later.
And then couldn’t go back to sleep.
You know, one of THOSE days.
Had a minor existential crisis over my morning eggs and coffee. Practical upshot: I’m not happy. Will be better when/if I ever get a Real Job and when/if Boyfriend does same. When I left for work, there was a torrential downpour happening outside. My umbrella inverted in the wind about a house and a half down the street. Yep, I’m That Girl. Am now soaked from approximately mid-thigh down because even an uninverted umbrella can’t stop horizontal rain.
The bus took forever to get to my stop. I had probably missed one en route to the stop, but couldn’t see it because my umberella(ella ella) must be kept full-on orthogonal to the ground to keep it from inverting. Yep, one of THOSE days.
The train was delayed inexplicably. Not at stations, but in the tunnel in between, which is somehow much more demoralizing. Yep.
Got to work. Realized that, for the five hundredth time in three weeks that the receipt I needed to turn in my travel reimbursement was at home when the form was at work. Or vice versa. This is the Law of Conservation of Paperwork. Paperwork can neither be created nor destroyed – either the form or the supporting documentation will always be in whatever location you are not. Yep.
{sigh} In order to do new experiments, I need materials. That must be produced. In another building. As in, not mine. As in, will require going Outside.
Fuck that, yo.
Youbetcha.
Manage to find semi-productive things to occupy me for the rest of the day. Feeling slightly uplifted. Decide to reward self by procuring Single Girl Supper (tm) on way home. (SGS(tm) consists of bread, cheese, various dips/spreads/delicious meat products, olives and/or other cold, delicious vegetable-type things. And a bottle of wine that I may or may not finish before bedtime. No cooking. Maximum deliciousness.)
I used to say that I never met a cheese I didn’t like.
I made an acquaintance tonight that has forever rendered that statement untrue.
Jawohl.
You know I’m having a bad day when I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHEESE.
Okay, not fair. I did very much enjoy the parmigiano reggiano and the old cheddar. But the funk from the Cheese That Shall Remain Nameless almost ruined THOSE. In fact, it still lingers in my kitchen/dining room, as well as (as I’m sure I’ll discover after I’ve had a couple of days to forget about it) my sinuses. I mean, have you ever picked up a few groceries on the way home on a rainy day, and thought, “hmm…something smells…icky. Probably my shoes, since they are made of leather and haven’t properly dried out all day.” And gotten home and unwrapped your groceries and realized it’s coming from them? I mean, genuinely wondered if your freshly purchased foodstuffs were medically safe to eat? I did some quick Googling, and found that my cheese is SUPPOSED to smell “prominently of barnyard” but is, in fact, “quite delightful” so I ignore the probable biohazards and give it the old college try. I mean, I’ve heard countless stories of cheese that smells like ass yet tastes incredible. Maybe this is one of these?
Nyet. No, it is not. IT TASTES JUST LIKE IT SMELLS. In fact, the cheese has no discernable flavor aside from the funk. No delightful creamy goodness. No umami. NADA.
Seriously. I am not kidding when I say this was Unpleasant.
And I TRIED to get past it – really I did! Maybe it’s an acquired taste! Stinky cheeses usually are! Maybe I can tolerate it without the rind, then work up to loving the whole putrid mess!
Non. Not at all. I do not like it, Sam I Am.
{sigh} So first I have failed as a functioning human being, and now I have failed as a Foodie.
A few glasses of wine have served to dull the pain, but like the scar on the back of my left hand, it lingers. And, as tends to happen after a few glasses of wine, I need to go to the bathroom. But as I go about my business, I realize that someone is in the bathroom upstairs, taking a shower.
Surely I have mentioned the lack of adequate water pressure in my house, no?
So the question, dear friends, is: After the thoroughly irritatingly pathetic day I have had…To flush? Or not to flush?
What would you do?
Before you answer, allow me to note that someone upstairs had left the back door open. The one that pools cold air into my little basement hallway. And it is 37 outside.
Oh yeah. I flushed that motherfucker.
And with that, I can sleep soundly tonight. G’nite.
