A Life In The Day...

I just had one of these days where NOTHING went RIGHT:

I got up on the wrong end of the bed, all right: there was a pile of clothes, a back-pack, empty bottles (of mineral water - not beer!) and assorted litter missing from there! So it couldn't be my side of the bed at all: that was a bad sign for the rest of the day, I knew it! 

I rush to the bathroom - we're all out of toothpaste, bathroom tissue and Irish Spray. Thank God we still have Lysol... Lemon-flavoured is my favorite, too! 

I step outside - no sun, no bums, no fun. My kind of quietness, really. But then I meet the neighbours' sprinklers; they rose as early as me - alas.

Wet as a sprocket, I take the subway - the only train wagon door that doesn't open to let in any passengers is the one I chose to line up in front. Line up, I said? There was no one else lining up for that one - it was only me! Hard not to take it personal here...

When I finally do get into the train wagon, there are so many commuters there that I can hardly fit in. I do not think it will be a problem - until the door closes behind me and threatens to take away both my tote *and* my pony tail...! I fight back, protest - and win. But then I have to maintain my balance the whole trip through - having nothing to hold on to. I surf my way to my destination; as grumpy as I can be cool, simultaneously, too. I read the newsflashes on the electronic board *and* peek at the headlines on the lucky joe sitting down with his newspaper as I surf, all the while taking mental notes on all the information, so much data that can be used, eventually... ! Count on me for all forms of multi-tasking - always!

Every second commuter insists to bump into my tote bag. I close my eyes and have visions of pushing, shoving, punching and tripping all of these idiots who don't look where they're going - and never think for one second to excuse themselves. When I reopen my eyes, I feel much better - until I attempt to twist around in order to make my exit at the next station and trip on a humongous hockey bag deposited right there at my feet while I had my eyes closed and dreamt of some form of righteous retribution. 

Once I reach the cyber-café, I sit down without looking - right into a puddle of spilt coffee (thankfully no longer boiling hot - hopefully not regurgitated) that was there, on the chair that I had the misfortune to choose... I don't get back up - not right away. Think I'll stay there for three to four hours now: I'm wearing white.

I accidentally e-mailed myself, and it went straight into the spam filter!
Is this my e-mail provider's way of telling me that I'm nothing more than scummy spammer material in its eyes? Thanks for the consideration, e-mail provider!

Blogger is currently unavailable (I obviously succeeded in posting this after the problem was solved - by that gang of highly-trained monkeys that always comes to the rescue whenever something goes kablooey there, remember?) while Twitter has hiccups and Facebook has serious security issues. What to do - resuscitate MySpace? My Care2Connect page? Multiply? Now that's multiplying the problem, not solving it...

I go home, to change. On my way there (since I chose to walk, this time, avoiding the bloody public transit system and all of its charms) I get splashed twice by oncoming trucks careening down streets way too narrow for them.  They must be Ontario truckers - those guys always do the impossible to tick you off. And they succeed at it, too. On each instance, I stop for my two seconds of Pedestrian Rage, the vehicle-deprived's answer to Road Rage... It did the trick. 

First thing I do once I get home, is throw my clothes all over the place. After I've finished taking off all of my clothes (well, almost all) I spot the neighbour watching me through her kitchen window.

I try and boil water and smoke fills up the kitchen within minutes. I turned on the wrong broiler, nonchalantly, and there were pots on each one of them...

The smoke detector protests loudly and clearly - I turn violent with it. I fall off the chair I needed to reach it with my clenched fist. Detector 1, Smoker 0.

I call to order some pizza and a sub. They insist on delivering it to the wrong address.

The sub is droopy-disgusting and the pizza is getting colder by the second - so I call to complain and, strangely enough, get a wrong number three times in a row. Using speed dial, redial and speed dial again...

I open a two-liter bottle of soda pop, in order to wash down that crappy dinner. It sprinkles the whole kitchen counter for a while before I am allowed to pour some of it into my glass and chug down a bit of it, at long last... It makes me sick for a minute.

Hours of cleaning fun do not deter my will and aspiration of spending a pleasant evening with the lady who owns my heart and a movie that will be there just for background noise really. As I seek for the ideal movie though, I realize it is no longer in my DVD tower. The ol' memory bank opens up and I come to realize that it is still out on loan to that best buddy of mine. I call him up, plead my case (basically that the movie in question is the only one that will do here: it has the exact amount of sappiness coupled with just the right dosage of nostalgia and the quintessential romantic tunes for an optimized background sound surround of PASSION!) - and, so, I need that DVD and I need it NOW.  He hears my plea, to the end - and laughs in my ear.

He promises to come by and drop it in less than thirty minutes. And he does - I hear his car tires screeching on the asphalt, his meek running pace, his dropping it in my mail box and driving off in a hurry... I wonder what's the hurry...?

I lent him the DVD - so that he brings it back to me all scratched by the trademark claws of his two monstruous cats...!!!
Thanks a million, pal...
And pussycats!

I try and illegally download the film from a certain bad-weather website... I get a trojan for my efforts. Not that I didn't already have one in my pocket - but that's another story...

The neighbors start being noisy, just as my lady arrives. I try and explain the situation but then I lose patience with the noisy neighbors and start hitting the wall with my fists in a sharp, quick succession of jackhammer-like punches that would make any thinner wall crumble. The neighbors come by to discuss things face-to-face.

The evening ends at the police station.

Oh - did I mention that this was on International Peace Day?

And since all throughout the previous week leading to this International Peace Day, I was hearing of wars, rumors of war, political and economical strife worldwide (sic)...  I had something to say on that subject, too!

So I took the time off (between stimulating conversations with so-called officers of the law, peace, order - and donuts) to pen this message for the U.N. on my laptop, as I sat there, in the neighbourhood police station's lobby, with nothing better to do...? Hey - I did as it had been suggested to everybody during the International Peace Day, er, festivities... Okay? I was, also, very inspired. It went something like this:

To all the great many world leaders -
you must come to your senses, quickly!
Peace is impossible, you've shown this well
but Earth is flawed enough without making it hell.
Time is so very short, weighing upon your shoulders
Try not wasting it all so gallantly!
For all your fine discourses
we see your agendas following other courses...
Remember that you will not take any riches with you
only your sins will follow through...
And so, if you truly value your legacy
and honestly believe that this planet has a future
make it clear to your staff and party
that you are in it for the noblest venture.
+++

And then I went out again, once finally paroled for the night, for milk, and twisted my ankle. 

I crawled to a cab and spent quality time with the local E.R. staff.

The perfect end to the perfect day.