It turns out that every clock in the house displayed a different time this morning, so I was late by 20 minutes and missed carpooling with my mother. I walked outside in my cute pink kitten heels, to find myself with a flatter-than-flat tire and the oh-so-unhelpful advice of a dozen groundsmen in my apartment complex who preferred to stand around and ogle the 6-foot-tall wet girl doing her damnedest to fix her car. After compressing air into the tire at ten mile intervals throughout my commute, thus getting even more soaked and dirty in the rain, I got the car into Sears, where they fixed the tire (under warranty, still, thank anyone but the damned deities who’ve been laughing at me all morning) and strongly recommended a balance and alignment which I don’t have time (or money) for until my vacation in two weeks. Then, still running on just two hours of sleep, I beelined for Starbucks which was – wait for it – without power. Since I was out of milk for my tea at home this morning, I am still uncaffeinated.

I’m not crying – yet.

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