Ross was away, which meant I was actually leaving by 6 every day. I wanted to have some fun. I sent an email around to the girls:

Hey Ladies,
Let's break out the margaritas and go see a chick flick tonight! Who's in?

The responses:

Tracey: I'm leaving in two days for vaca, sorry babe!

Eliana: Tonight? I'm hanging out with Zack tonight. (writers note: Her new BF)

Jax: Hey Babe, I'm out of town, remember? Maybe next week?


I emailed Brian and Sara to see if they'd be around.

Hey, sorry, we can't make it tonight.

I asked Lainie what she was doing. She already had dinner plans.

I was so desperate that I even asked Joe what he was doing. He had a date.

I contemplated going to the gym. Renting a movie. Going to a movie alone. Watching Pepper Dennis. Then I remembered it got cancelled.

I have no life. No wonder I am a workaholic.

The Worst Day Ever?

A truck has run over my head. A big truck. That is the amount if sinus pressure I have in my head right now. And yes, of course I am at work. Ross was in a bad mood, he had already yelled at me six times, and everyone else seemed to be cranky. Joe is out this morning, although since the big fight we've been getting along pretty well. In fact, I've been liking him the most in the office lately.
Ross banged out of his office, yelling about the barbecue event that was coming up, and I jumped.
"Where is the permit?" He shouted. "I don't care if you have to go downtown and get it in person, I NEED that permit!"
"I know, Ross, I-"
"Get on it!"
He stormed back into his office. Okay, make that seven times.
I slumped down in my chair.
"WHERE IS THAT LETTER?"
I banged my head against the desk. Could this day get worse? A quick glance in the mirror as I went to get more tissues indicated that yes, it could get worse. A big, ginormous cold sore had materialized on my lip.
"Fabulous!" I stalked to my desk and opened up my emails. Nothing from Daniel. Daniel the douchebag who had flown off to Seattle to "chill with his cousin" for the whole freaking summer and he hadn't called, texted, or written. Or said goodbye. What-freaking-ever!
"Bad day?" Joe asked.
"Bad day?" I parroted.
"You have a lot of those," he commented.
"I used to have mostly good days."
"Really."
"Yes!"
Joe folded his arms. "I find that interesting."
"Shut up!"
"Really, think about it."
"Thank you Therapist Joe." I shoved him away from my desk.
Damn. Was I really harboring in my matryrdom? How to fix this?
Of course! A drink!
Okay, not a real drink. A vitamin C power boost drink. Because I believe all that advertising. Seriously.
The day wore on. And it got worse. I think I fell asleep at my desk for a few minutes (translation=10). I spent fifteen minutes between sneezing and coughing explaining to the police officer that the amplifiers would be turned off by 9, and guaranteeing that yes, the event would end by 9:30...a box of tissues later I was stuffing envelopes for a client dinner. Thank you notes. 93 of them. I was seriously not going to make it. I ignored calls from everyone as I slugged through my work. I really had to focus--I was leaving for the Heart to Hart Foundation retreat in two days--I was running it, but not through Moxie, it was volunteer. But I had to finish all my work. And not be sick. By the time 6:00 rolled around, I was toast. All I wanted was a cold beer, a pizza, and Pepper Dennis. (Yes, I watch Pepper Dennis. It's not funny and it's corny but for some reason, I just can't stop watching. Pathetic, I know, but you know I have nothing else to do) I dragged myself to the subway through the city summer heat with 4 million other commuters, squashed onto the train and...there was no air-conditioning.
Hell. I was in hell. And I just remembered that I didn't even have any beer. Apparantly the day could get worse. Well, not worse. At least when I got off the train in my cold sore, frizzy hair and glasses state I would not have to see Douchebag Daniel!
Hmmm. The day could be salvaged. Crystal light, a bagel, Pepper Dennis and...Nyquil?