This morning I needed to be at work half an hour earlier than usual. I got out of bed twenty minutes later than I usually do. This is why math is not my friend.
The train was full. The woman jammed up next to me kept coughing on me. Each time she did it I would have an inner meltdown as I screamed at her (in my head) to cover her damn mouth. And then she spat on me. It wasn't an intentional spit, it was mid-cough. But there was definite bodily fluids involved - more than a spray - and it landed on my face. ON MY FACE.
I got to work late. I took a pile of work home with me last night to do and, umm, watched America's Next Top Model instead (but wow, am I ever glad I didn't miss last night's episode. When they announced who was leaving, I actually shouted, "FINALLY!" at my tv.) So not only was I late this morning, I was unprepared.
Stella has puppy school tonight. I hate puppy school. Stella hates puppy school. Last week a snarky little fluffball bit Stella - hard. The fluffball has serious aggression issues. I think it stems from the fact that she's named Mirage.
None of this matters. Nothing can bring me down today. Today is the Canucks Season Opener. After puppy school, I will join my friends at our skanky neighbourhood pub (the one with the jungle mural on one wall and the fake bamboo decor) and watch the Calgary Flames lose miserably. Hells. Yes.