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my new backpack was apparently designed with the idea that it is occasionally, at random and unpredictable intervals, handy to have the zipper come all the way undone so that all my crap is flung onto the sidewalk behind me. due to this convenient feature, my only bowl is now broken and I had no cereal this morning.
upon hearing this, my roommate laughed and asked why I was possibly stupid enough to not own only PLASTIC bowls which can't break if your backpack happens to open. this seemed an odd response since she had just finished telling me about her annoying problem that day and I'd been fairly sympathetic, but I suppose it was rather stupid of me not to have checked my horoscope for bowl breaking warnings.
I figured swim class would cheer me up as it usually does, but I was confounded by our instructor's decision to teach us a drill for the breaststroke, rather than continuing on with the final of ten weeks' worth of lessons on the freestyle stroke, which we were about to put together into the real thing, or so he'd been assuring us. now it's 3 MONTHS before the next lesson of any kind, thus ensuring that we still don't really know how to swim unless we figure it out on our own. and the pool is closing so we can't practice. and it's another chunk of money to take more lessons in the fall. and I have a headache and stiff muscles from practicing hard between classes in order to ensure a good performance on our final lesson night, and nothing to show for it or the money and time I have spent except a bunch of drills which allow me to practice my form but not actually move anywhere.
on the subway home from class some others were apparently also having a bad day and a woman remarked "but at least it's not raining." at the very next stop the doors opened to reveal the sound of a sudden downpour, with me in my shorts and sandals and no umbrella. (at this point I was more amused than anything.)
and this morning I got to work to realize some asshole has opened my bag of bagels in the fridge, removed two, and then left the bag open so the rest would get stale and begin tasting faintly of all the other food.
also I would like to issue a warning at my office that men (I assume I can safely attribute this one solely to males) who piss on toilet seats are all going to a very special room in hell where they spend the rest of eternity sitting in other people's urine and saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" really, am I the only adult male in America who occasionally has to go poo and can't wait 8 hours to do it at home? or just the only one who doesn't like sitting in urine?
whew, big rant, feel better. |
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