I woke up this morning after an incredibly comfortable night of sleep, fully convinced that it was Saturday and I could stay in bed as long as I wanted. Then the alarm went off. It could've been worse; having that experience on a Monday morning is one of the worst feelings in the world.
After I dragged myself out of bed and through the shower, I found that one of yesterday's little problems failed to resolve itself overnight. When I returned home from taxes yesterday evening, I noticed that the color of my tap water was a little...off. I like my water colorless, but colorless this was not:
The freaky tint had hardly faded when I turned on the faucet this morning. I'm sure it was safe to drink, but nevertheless, I battled my way through breakfast sans water until I could get my mouth on some liquid that was a little more..."transparent" at the office. As thirsty as I was, I just couldn't get excited about drinking a tall glass of urine-colored liquid with breakfast. (Though, looking at the photo now, it would pass for a fine glass of white grape juice).
Work brought endless frustration, continuing the theme for the week. The last few weeks leading up to this one had been eerily quiet; as I feared, it was the calm before the storm. Just about everything that could go wrong did just that. One of the critical inputs in our monthly estimate process was days late, and as the last stop on the finance train leading up to today's deadline, my group bore the brunt of the pain.
And far more than I fear Friday the 13th, I tremble when I look ahead at the barrage of deadlines on the calendar in the next two weeks related to the annual planning process, which runs concurrently with the already-painful monthly estimate process. Every time I tried to get answers to my questions about some of the steps in the needlessly complex planning process, I encountered more confusion and constant reminders that I know even less that I thought. The next two weeks promise to be absolutely brutal. I feel like the wild turkey walking onto the highway that I spotted on my way to taxes last night. Things are going okay at the moment, but everyone can see that something terrible is just around the bend...
I left work mentally exhausted, wanting nothing more than to drive straight home and enjoying the seniors' special: a late afternoon dinner and then directly to bed for the night. Instead, I dragged myself to the gym and mustered the resolve to make it through a Friday night workout. Then, leaving Lifetime, I was convinced that the Malibu had been stolen. When I walked to the spot where I was sure I'd parked hours earlier, the Malibu was nowhere to be found. I did spot a Malibu, but it was white, not the fantastic shade of light sandrift metallic that covers the exterior of my Malibu.
A Malibu theft would have absolutely shocked me, given that my car had to be the least valuable in the lot, coupled with the fact that starting the engine is always a challenging trick, even with the assistance of the ignition key. While I'd normally welcome the prospect of having my car stolen, I didn't have the energy to walk home on this cold, damp night. After wandering the lot for a bit I finally spotted my trusty, tan ride. In my tired state of mind, I'd done a very poor job taking note where I parked.
Speaking of a cold, damp night, April has been quite the letdown in the weather department. Overnight lows have been bottoming out in the low 20s. While today was around 50°, the view out the patio door was depressing nonetheless:
Some of the trees may finally be springing to life, but the clouds and rain made it an evening worthy of Seattle or London. Worst of all, a ten second preview for the 10PM news featured the weatherman and one god-awful phrase: "...and the possibility of snowfall in the forecast!" Like I said, I'm not particularly superstitious, but I'm starting to become a believer in Friday the 13th...
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