I went to bed with my hair pulled up and woke with a knot in my hair, and when I was in the bathroom this morning, I got toothpaste all over my favorite bra, and dropped my blusher brush in the sink and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At Starbucks this morning they had a raw newbie running the till (during morning rush) and on loop 12 there were stupid drivers who waited too long to merge into a single lane, and when I got to work there was a cluster of smokers directly in front of the entrance door, and they glared at me when I asked them politely to move. I shouldn’t have to walk through a cloud of cigarette smoke to get into my office!

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

The loan processing software I use at work kicked me out with three times (sql and divide-by-zero errors) forcing me to reboot and every file I touched was completely craptastic and they were out of apples and peanut butter in the cafeteria and there was no soap in the good bathroom.

(It was the kind of day that makes me want to blow off my real life and go be an itinerant street poet. )

On the way home, I made the mistake of returning a call to my mother (who’d called my cell from Mexico) and she spent fifteen minutes screaming at me because the company we now refer to as “Affordable FuckHosts” and it’s sister company “Affordable FuckDots” refuse to release her domain, or answer the email ticket she sent (we don’t respond to email – it’s spam) and WHY this is my fault is beyond me, and then we went to buy dog food, and I wanted to look at the fish, and one of the angel fish was cannibalizing it’s tankmates, and when we stopped at a certain quasi-fast-food place for dinner, there was an old guy ahead of us in an even older Mercedes flirting with the flustered cashier, completely oblivious of the line of cars behind him, and then I crunched my ankle coming into the house because Cleo pounced me and Zorro was between my feet.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Fuzzy reminded me that some days are like that.
Even when you rhyme.

With apologies to Judith Viorst.