Thursday, February 12, 2009

Reasons Why I Was Late Today

Okay, I was late to work today and I have good excuses. Stupid, but good.

Reason the first: I bought a new alarm clock because my old one ran 25 minutes slow and even though I'd completely adjusted to it (and lived that way for more than a year) I finally decided that trying to do that sort of mental athrimetic on a daily basis was just using up brain cells that I need for more important things, like lyrics and dirty jokes. And Lost. (Jesus H, I thought I had a handle on it and then I go read the TWOP boards and OMG those people are machines. MACHINES. They know character's names from three seasons back! It's just wrong.)

Anyway, so ponied up the $12 and bought a shiny new alarm clock which claimed to have unlimited snooze capability but I swear it stops after the third hit. And each interval is nine minutes, which is way too long. Nine minutes! Do you know how deeply dreamingly asleep I can be in nine minutes? Very. Anyway, so apparently I'm used to hitting the clock multiple times at five minute intervals and that is just not working for the new clock. I need to get on it's program or else I need to go back to 25-minute-slow time or something. Hmph.

Reason the second: my clothes are all ugly and don't work together. I had black pants (I know this is totally phoning it in but I was already running late) a green top, and a cream jacket. It should have worked but just doesn't. The top, quite honestly, has NEVER worked on me (and requires all kinds of stupid underpinnings because it's too low cut and I don't need a boob swinging out at work) but I keep trying. So I have my outfit on and hate it but I'm running out of time and can't figure out anything better on such short notice. It's insane. I ask my husband if I look like an asshole and he glanced over and said, "You look fine."

Okay, just something to point out. "FINE" is not what I'm going for. At minimum, I want cute. At minimum. On a good day I want to look more than cute, I want polished. Sleek. Something in that family. Something really pulled together and quirky, yet still sort of minimal. GOD. IT'S ELUSIVE. But I want it. I do not want "fine". Fine is sad. Fine is a Sunday-afternoon-when-I-run-up-to-the-Food-Dog-for-a-bottle-of-wine-and-some-candy outfit.

Poor husband. It's so hard to know the right answer.

Anyway, I put away my laser eyes when he told me that my fine was better than most people's cute. That works.

Reason the third: I get in the car and go go go because now I'm late. I get on the narrow and hilly road that takes me from my part of town to the road that takes me across the river and almost immediately I'm screwed. There is a BACKHOE tootling down the road ahead of me. Top speed on the flat sections: 15 mph. Top speed on the hills: 5 mph. I am not even making this up. He chugged up the hills at the speed of sssssslow and there was no way around him. One of the hills was so steep I wasn't even sure he was going to make it. I mean, those things aren't really meant for joyriding. Or even no-joy riding. Or driving at all on public streets when people be trying to get to WORK. Damn.

I finally arrived at work just in time to miss the last parking space. Hooray for ill timing. I blame that damn clock.



  2. No, that's just what I call Food Lion! Food Dog is a much better name.


  4. Seriously? YES. It's awful, but they have booze. Check it:

  5. They have backhoes on the road where you live? More bizarro.

  6. i know the feeling...