Last week I was going to write an entry about all the stupid things I'd done while Joel was away, and somehow blame it all on him for not being here. Either that, or I was going to conclude that his prescence in my life is the only thing that keeps me from accidentally stumbling in front of a UPS truck every morning. But then I decided to watch TV instead, and I never got around to it. I know you're heartbroken. Please stop crying. Really, don't cry. If I see other people cry, then I start crying, and... oh, hell. Now I'm crying. Great.
So, *sniff*, sometimes Joel makes fun of me and tells me that I'm a mess, which I vehemently deny, because I clearly have my shit together. Sure, sometimes I go to work with the size sticker still attached to my cute new sweater, and sometimes I try to cook and end up with a charred heap of burnt fish and some shattered CorningWear. But in general, I have it together.
ONE. As a grand kickoff to my week-long stupidity fest, I came home from the gym on Thursday night and couldn't find my keys. It turned out that I had left them at work. My work is not that far away, and I could have just walked back and got them, but: 1. My office is in the bona-fide ghetto. 2. It was already 7pm, and dark out. 3. My key to the office is also on my keychain, so I couldn't even get in. 4. I was tired and didn't feel like walking any more.
Whoops! Liz to the rescue! Good thing I refused to let her give me that house key back after she babysat the cats, for just this reason! Good thing she picked up the phone!
TWO. The next day, I decided to skip the gym and make myself a nice dinner for one. Except, I burned it so badly that it was inedible. Seriously, that pork chop was so black, even Max wouldn't eat it. And Max eats bugs, and enjoys chewing on the broom. But at least I didn't set off the smoke alarm, because we've temporarily disconnected it again.
THREE STRIKES, BUT I'M NOT OUT! On Saturday morning, I went to pick up our dry cleaning. As I was sitting in my car rooting through my purse for the pickup ticket, I realize I don't have it, because my entire wallet seems to be missing. I went back home, got my wallet, and came back, paid for my dry cleaning and dropped off my new red peacoat, and left.
FOUR. As was pulling out of the parking lot, I noticed a crazed-looking Korean lady running after me. Waving... something? What is that? Oh, my dry cleaning. Which I forgot to take with me after I paid for it.
FIVE. On Saturday, I bought myself some not-scrapbooks. On Saturday night, I ruined all of the plastic protector sheets (SHUT UP) by putting them in too-close proximity to the rubber cement (SHUT UP!). On Sunday, I went to try to sneakily return them and get a new book. On my way there, I was daydreaming and missed the exit for the mall. Had to drive 7 miles north on the highway before the first exit.
SIX. The craft store woman shows me how to open the binder in the not-scrapbook and replace the pages. She still lets me return it, and pretends not to notice that I'm an idiot.
SEVEN. In my rush to leave for work on Monday, I forgot my lunch. I berated myself for this the whole way to work, thinging Great, now I'm going to have to buy lunch, on top of coffee because I had sympathy insomnia and couldn't sleep until Joel got home at 3am, and this staying alive is just getting too damn expensive. Got to work, and saw that the leftovers I forgot to bring home on Friday were still there. Evidence that two wrongs DO make a right? I think so.
EIGHT. Had to run back into the house because I forgot my new book. Read all of two pages of new book at lunch. Come home, and looking forward to picking up on page three, go to get out my new book... and realize I left it at the gym. Which closes in 18 minutes.
NINE. Made Joel drive with me back to the gym and sit in the illegally parked car, while I run up to find my book.
TEN. Tell the world about it all, hoping it will break my curse. Plan to walk across the path of three black cats next week if that doesn't work.