in the adding-insult-to-injury department, the UTI (google it) which popped by on saturday also lingered. i'm not sure why i feel it's okay to tell you that, but there you go.
so, ouch in the head. ouch in the *coughvjaycough*. awesome start to the week.
i left the house for work at 815am. i am staying with a friend for the next couple of weeks and this was the first time i had made the journey from her suburb to my place of employment. i was giving myself an extra 15 minutes for 'justin'.
i spent the next five to 10 minutes trying to find the car. the boy was the last one to park it. his detailed "it's-just-down-that-street there" directive was accompanied by a misguided finger point. well, that's my memory of the convo. his was different, and his brain was working a hell of a lot better than mine on sunday. still, i am probably right.
i tried to call him for specifics. my phone was dead. i wandered up and down wrong street for five minutes. changed tact. found correct street. found car.
not the best start to my journey but i still had enough time to be at work by nine - if i managed a flawless trip. i didn't.
my friend's directions were quite likely perfect but they were delivered to me the night before. my poor fried brain was, let's face it, not listening. i nodded along while telling myself i would call her in the morning when i had the map in my hand.
as you'll recall, dead phone.
so i tried to map the route myself. thought i'd done okay. proceeded.
spent the next FUCKING HOUR trying to get on FUCKING SOUTHERN CROSS DRIVE. STUPID FUCKING FUCKED UP INVISIBLE FUCKING STREET. ahem.
at about 930am, i found the southern cross drive exit - southbound. wrong direction. at this point, i am still about five minutes' drive from my starting point and already half an hour late for work.
of course, i can't call work. dead phone. i can't call mr direction, whoever that may be. dead phone. and i can't use google maps. DEAD FUCKING FUCKED PHONE.
my anxiety was hitting the roof. my inexperience in sydney traffic was not helping. the inability to pull over, collect myself and reroute the trip only added to the stress. i mapped out another route in stop-start traffic. i cannot believe harry the yari survived. i opted for parramatta road via botany. i know parra road. i figured it may not be the most direct, but it would at least work.
driving in sydney. fun for the whole family.
anxiety needles were still burning my skin but i was travelling sweetly along botany all the same. but wait, what's this? a FORCED FUCKING EXIT OFF BOTANY ROAD. FUCKING FUCK SHIT FUCK.
calm the drama. the exit wasn't nearly as bad as expected. i found parra road and arrived at work a mere two hours after leaving the house. and just 75 minutes after i planned to arrive.
so, bad day, huh? read on.
my head was still ouch. 'she' was also still ouch, getting oucher. i needed coffee but was petrified of weeing.
lunch time arrived. dear god, please can this day go faster? i decided i had the time to spare to head to the RTA. i bought a car last week and have to register it within 14 days. i had not yet had the time to duck out during my lunch break so i thought i'd take advantage of the spare moment while i could. i got in car and then realised the boy still has my license in his wallet from the weekend's activities. oh...my...fucking...GOD.
i just sat there for a while. i needed a breather. i decided i'd go for a drive anyway although i am not sure why i thought reuniting with sydney roads was a good idea. i found a chemist which was a bonus because i needed 'stuff'. during the five minute period i was out of my car, the sky had opened. it was absolutely pouring and i was umbrella-less. there was a crowd under the awning, waiting for a break in the downpour but i didn't have that kind of time to spare. i hot-footed and made it to my car. looking like a drowned rat. feeling like a drowned rat
so, back at office, still drowned-rattyish, i tore off a 'medicinal sachet' to help calm the ol' UTI. i have done this so many times before. but this time was different. this time it ripped open and spewed pink crystals everywhere. i am still sweeping them off my desk, out of my handbag.
i laughed at the same time as i cried. this day was not going to end without a tantrum. i had to go home.
anxiety was rife before i even saw harry. would there be a repeat of the morning's performance? the nerves didn't evaporate but i did seem to be doing well. mind you, i spent about 15 minutes marking every page required and writing the corresponding page number on the printed off whereis directions. about 30 minutes in, and just a few more from 'home', i was slammed in the face with a decision i had no time to make. i veered right. if you'd like a prize for guessing which way i should have turned you can FUCK RIGHT OFF.
oh look, sydney airport. great. just what i need to fly the FUCK OUT OF THIS FUCKING CITY.
luckily for me, i went in such circles that morning i stumbled upon a street i recognised. via an unbelievably roundabout route, i made it. i finally fucking made it to the front door.
and you know how it's not until you reach your front door and can't find your keys in the abyss that is your handbag, that you feel the overwhelming need to wee? i was running on the spot like a mad women which, in turn, made it even harder to find my keys. i am sure i pulled every single item out of my bag twice before i found those keys. and why did i put them back in my bag in the first place?
i made it up three flights of stairs just in time. but wouldn't pissing myself have been the perfect way to end the day?
of course, i didn't get to enjoy that peeing-when-you're-busting feeling because i was still peeing razorblades.
there was nothing better than waking up last tuesday. a brand new day, ladies and gentlemen. a brand new day.
i couldn't post this last week. computer probs. i think my peripheral ports were all out of whack. and sorry for the personal joke but, trust me, it's hilarious!