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I desperately needed to do laundry this morning. I had attempted to do so last night, but some douchenozzle had taken up every machine in the place, so I had to get up early this morning and do it.
I had an attack of insomnia last night and went to sleep at 5a.m. - to get up at 6:45.
My scheduled departure time was 7:30. Shortly before that, I'm getting ready to make oatmeal - a nice warm breakfast given that the wind chill outside was 25. I'm standing in the kitchen barefoot, with my cat nosing around my ankles. The box of oatmeal that I'm opening explodes, sending dry oats all over the place. I yelp, and the startled cat who had been standing on my bare left foot gives said foot a couple of good lacerations on her way out of the kitchen. We'll refer to this as injury #1.
15 minutes of direct pressure and 2 band-aids later, I'm ready to finish getting ready and head out - sans breakfast of course. I leave at 8:00, figuring I'll be back in time to eat and get ready.
I should note that when I say "laundry", I"m referring to a suitcase full of clothes that weighs approximately 50lbs. It's more economical for me to do a single, large trip than for several small ones. This suitcase had wheels at one point, but they shredded, so now I have to drag it along the ground. All 50lbs of it.
Because I don't have a ride to the laundromat this morning, I opted to try to walk the 1/4 mile down the street to the other apartment complex owned by my leasing company. Apparently, when they advertise that laundry facilities are available - they mean a coin laundry at the apartments down the street. No problem - out I go.
Turns out - they have a coin laundry with no change machine. As in - coins are required to operate the machines, but there is no way to convert currency into said coins.
I now have to walk all the way to the train station - just over half a mile. With my new friend Mr. Suitcase. I should also note here, that myself and one old man at the end of the street are the only people in my city who ever sweep our sidewalks. Dragging a 50lb suitcase sans wheels through piles of leaves - now that's fun.
The combination of asthma, mold allergies, and dragging a 50lb g****mn suitcase for 3/4 mile does not mix well, so by the time I hit Ponce, I had to "sit down for a minute" in the middle of the sidewalk. We'll refer to this as injury #2. A lady stopped to ask if I was okay - I nodded yes, and the guy behind her started blowing his horn to get out of the way. She drove off - I flipped him off.
I got up and finished the walk to the station - still mid-asthma attack. Why I didn't think to use my inhaler at the intersection of Ponce I don't know, but by the time I got to Avondale, my airway had closed too much for it to be useful. I had to sit down for a minute again. The fact that no one on MARTA found the sight of a passenger slouched over, wheezing, and drooling a little to be the least bit interesting could arguably be a source of hurt feelings, but we will reserve the title of injury #3 for something else.
Namely, the freaking back strain from hauling that damn suitcase.
I make it to the bus. Would have been nice to sit down, wouldn't it? Nope. The fat lady up front saw absolutely no need to move her handbag from the seat next to her. May she die in a grease fire.
The bus drops me off at the edge of the eternal farking parking lot, and after a couple more "sit downs", I eventually make it to the freaking laundromat. Ta da! True to form, the dryers there take 30 minutes to get the clothes to lukewarm and only slightly damp. After that, I tossed everything into the suitcase and hauled it back across the parking lot to the bus stop across the street.
2 buses go to that stop. 1 goes directly to my station. The other goes all the bumfark way around the city before going to the station adjacent to my stop. Guess which one I caught.
Yep. Got to the station just in time to miss the train, and to wait 10 minutes while someone's little brat chanted the same line from "if you're happy and you know it" over and freaking over.
By this time, I have a nice little blister on my hand from lugging that damn suitcase. We'll refer to that as injury #4.
On the way home, I'm lugging the stupid freaking suitcase down a hill when the blister bursts, causing me to drop the suitcase, which crashes into the back of my leg. Injury #5. The ensuing 80 decibel stream of profanity caused no injury to anyone that I know of.
I'm supposed to leave the apartment fully ready at 11:00. Guess what time I get there. Yep. Now, most reasonable people would have just called out today - had the common sense to just stay home. Nope. I decided to be a good employee. I promptly get dressed, then walk the additional quarter mile back to the MARTA station. This is the point at which two or three major joints suddenly remember that they have bursitis - and they're pissed off at this whole ordeal. Injury #6. Each step sends bolts of pain shooting through my entire frame. But I still go to work.
Where I will be docked 1/2 point for being 30 minutes late.
I had an attack of insomnia last night and went to sleep at 5a.m. - to get up at 6:45.
My scheduled departure time was 7:30. Shortly before that, I'm getting ready to make oatmeal - a nice warm breakfast given that the wind chill outside was 25. I'm standing in the kitchen barefoot, with my cat nosing around my ankles. The box of oatmeal that I'm opening explodes, sending dry oats all over the place. I yelp, and the startled cat who had been standing on my bare left foot gives said foot a couple of good lacerations on her way out of the kitchen. We'll refer to this as injury #1.
15 minutes of direct pressure and 2 band-aids later, I'm ready to finish getting ready and head out - sans breakfast of course. I leave at 8:00, figuring I'll be back in time to eat and get ready.
I should note that when I say "laundry", I"m referring to a suitcase full of clothes that weighs approximately 50lbs. It's more economical for me to do a single, large trip than for several small ones. This suitcase had wheels at one point, but they shredded, so now I have to drag it along the ground. All 50lbs of it.
Because I don't have a ride to the laundromat this morning, I opted to try to walk the 1/4 mile down the street to the other apartment complex owned by my leasing company. Apparently, when they advertise that laundry facilities are available - they mean a coin laundry at the apartments down the street. No problem - out I go.
Turns out - they have a coin laundry with no change machine. As in - coins are required to operate the machines, but there is no way to convert currency into said coins.
I now have to walk all the way to the train station - just over half a mile. With my new friend Mr. Suitcase. I should also note here, that myself and one old man at the end of the street are the only people in my city who ever sweep our sidewalks. Dragging a 50lb suitcase sans wheels through piles of leaves - now that's fun.
The combination of asthma, mold allergies, and dragging a 50lb g****mn suitcase for 3/4 mile does not mix well, so by the time I hit Ponce, I had to "sit down for a minute" in the middle of the sidewalk. We'll refer to this as injury #2. A lady stopped to ask if I was okay - I nodded yes, and the guy behind her started blowing his horn to get out of the way. She drove off - I flipped him off.
I got up and finished the walk to the station - still mid-asthma attack. Why I didn't think to use my inhaler at the intersection of Ponce I don't know, but by the time I got to Avondale, my airway had closed too much for it to be useful. I had to sit down for a minute again. The fact that no one on MARTA found the sight of a passenger slouched over, wheezing, and drooling a little to be the least bit interesting could arguably be a source of hurt feelings, but we will reserve the title of injury #3 for something else.
Namely, the freaking back strain from hauling that damn suitcase.
I make it to the bus. Would have been nice to sit down, wouldn't it? Nope. The fat lady up front saw absolutely no need to move her handbag from the seat next to her. May she die in a grease fire.
The bus drops me off at the edge of the eternal farking parking lot, and after a couple more "sit downs", I eventually make it to the freaking laundromat. Ta da! True to form, the dryers there take 30 minutes to get the clothes to lukewarm and only slightly damp. After that, I tossed everything into the suitcase and hauled it back across the parking lot to the bus stop across the street.
2 buses go to that stop. 1 goes directly to my station. The other goes all the bumfark way around the city before going to the station adjacent to my stop. Guess which one I caught.
Yep. Got to the station just in time to miss the train, and to wait 10 minutes while someone's little brat chanted the same line from "if you're happy and you know it" over and freaking over.
By this time, I have a nice little blister on my hand from lugging that damn suitcase. We'll refer to that as injury #4.
On the way home, I'm lugging the stupid freaking suitcase down a hill when the blister bursts, causing me to drop the suitcase, which crashes into the back of my leg. Injury #5. The ensuing 80 decibel stream of profanity caused no injury to anyone that I know of.
I'm supposed to leave the apartment fully ready at 11:00. Guess what time I get there. Yep. Now, most reasonable people would have just called out today - had the common sense to just stay home. Nope. I decided to be a good employee. I promptly get dressed, then walk the additional quarter mile back to the MARTA station. This is the point at which two or three major joints suddenly remember that they have bursitis - and they're pissed off at this whole ordeal. Injury #6. Each step sends bolts of pain shooting through my entire frame. But I still go to work.
Where I will be docked 1/2 point for being 30 minutes late.
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