Wit's End

A list, if you will, of shit that went wrong today:

Early Morning - I am having a strange nightmare in which my parents have disappeared, their house is empty and has been taken over by some sort of automotive chop shop, and I am hiding out in the house across the street, being not-so-subtly propositioned by an aging lesbian with bad plumbing (not a euphemism, just a lot of puddles in the bathroom).

9:00am - I wake up to what I not-so-affectionately term "Bodega Music"--a particularly peppy breed of Latin music most frequently heard in bodegas and non-livery taxis--so loud that it feels as if the speakers are actually in the bed with me (and I'm spooning with the sub-woofer). I wait for a minute, to see if perhaps it is a car driving past, but when it doesn't fade I stumble blindly into the livingroom where it is even louder. I blunder into the hallway where the offending neighbor has got her door wide open and is kneeling down, scrubbing the door jamb. I have to yell "Exucse me!" five times in two different languages before I get her attention and ask her to turn it down. She seems surprised.

9:45am - Never fully able to regain sleep after my rude awakening, I give up and get out of bed. Discover the internet isn't working.

11:25am - Just miss my train. Wait 10 minutes for another.

12:45pm - Having gone to the cable store to exchange my modem, I walk a dozen or so blocks to get to the yarn store I've been trying to make it to for the past three days. I get there. It's closed until Monday.

1:00pm - Go to use the bathroom at Barnes and Noble. It's broken and I have to go up an extra floor.

1:04pm - Stop to get cash at an ATM. It refuses to take my card.

1:09pm - I've decided that only a burrito can save the day. Unfortunately, the line at Chipotle is six miles long and I'm forced to make due with a deli sandwich drenched in enough mustard to feed a family of four.

2:00pm - Arrive at clinic for the Pysch Evaluation phase of the screening to be a potential egg donor. (Yes, I'm considering selling my genetic material for money. No, the idea of other people's kids having my DNA doesn't bother me. Yes, I realize that more of me running around in the world is a frightening prospect.) During the course of the evaluation, the psychologist asks how many sexual partners I've had. I tell her. She says "That's a lot." I wish I'd lied.

4:00pm - Decide to walk the 2 miles to the hospital to visit my friend. Fifth Avenue was a BAD idea. I hate tourists

8:30pm - Arrive home and set up new cable modem. It doesn't work. Half of my remaining taco shells are broken. My DVR failed to record the new episode of Bones as it was programmed to do. I eat my crumbling tacos then spend 50 minutes on the phone with three different techs from the cable company who do everything short of sacrifice a goat, but none of whom can get my modem to work. Just as I'm about to tear into Tech #3 and tell him there's no way I'm paying him for the FIVE DAYS I'll be without internet until they can get a tech to my house, the damned modem starts working as if my magic. I keep my appointment for Tuesday, since it's sure to break again, and the guy gives me a free month of HBO for my trouble. I should have asked for Showtime.

10:40pm - Plug the modem into the router. It can't find the DNS servers. So I have internet, but only when the modem is tethered to my laptop via a fairly short cable. I'm writing this in Notepad and will cut and paste it once I crouch uncomfortably next to the bookcase to plug the network cable in.

11:10pm - My neighbors are clearly disassembling a tank next door. This place seemed so quiet when I first moved in.


In all fairness, there are a few--very few--things that went right today, including: My friend's speech getting clearer, Mister Softee, and my kitchen light turning on with the first try. On the whole, however, I really hope that tomorrow is a little better.

You know, just a little.