The sarcasm of that title doesn't quite come out in the written word, does it?
This, so far, has been my Monday morning:
Wake up. Late. Again.
Hurry through shower with Billy. We're both late, and vying for the water.
After finishing my shower, making coffee, putting my face on and getting dressed, I run outside to start my car.
It doesn't start.
I fear that my car, as much as I love her, may drive me crazy with all of her issues of late.
I storm back into house, throw keys on the table and ask Billy's cousin for his girlfriend's keys, since she has taken a different car for the day and her Hyundai is sitting outside, unused. (I may never have explained before that Billy owns a house with his cousin, James. James's girlfriend, Kelly, lives there, too.)
James gets off the phone with Kelly to report, sadly, that she accidentally took the keys to that car with her. And there isn't an extra one in the house.
I try not to cry.
James and Billy, on their way out the door to work (they work together), take a look at my car before they leave. They decide it is my starter. I feel guilty for perhaps making them late and insist that they go; I'll work something out. Billy tells me to pop my clutch and gets in front of my car to push it, backwards, down the driveway.
I'm sort of scared to pop my clutch going backwards; I have to make sure to avoid the rock wall alongside the driveway AND the two other cars parked there. Plus, I'm not sure how quickly or slowly to let the clutch out. So it doesn't work.
I stand outside in the cold and, like an idiot, watch helplessly as Billy hops in my driver's seat and James pushes the car backwards down the driveway. Of course, it works when Billy does it.
Thank Billy and James over and over again, then apologize profusely for taking their time, while they hurry into their shared car for the day to get to work.
Go back inside to do my hair only to realize that I am late and have no time to do it. So I get my coat and purse and coffee and head to my (thankfully) running car. With wet hair.
It is below freezing outside.
After driving for ten minutes, I realize that I have only four minutes left to get to work on time...And another ten minutes worth of a drive left. I thank God for the sunny day and, therefore, the ability to speed. Although it is freezing cold out, the sun is shining. I put on my sunglasses.
But I spoke too sun. I run into a complete white-out. The sun has disappeared and been replaced with a ridiculous amount of snow pouring from the heavens. It is snowing so hard, I almost don't see a giant dump truck driving all of 15 miles per hour on the road ahead of me. You can't slam on your brakes in the snow, so I sigh with relief that I saw the guy early enough to downshift my way to 15mph.
I try not to cry. Again.
I have roughly five miles left until I pull into work. It takes me well over fifteen minutes to drive that five miles, because I had to follow the dumptruck in the whiteout. So, after driving 15 mph in the thick snow, I finally make it to work. Obviously, I am late. Very Late. I get out of my car and nearly fall on my face in my weather-inappropriate shoes.
Walk into the office to find a coworker at my desk, loading a program on my computer and talking on the phone. Drop my purse on the desk and curse under my breath at the fact that I am once again without a desk.
Fight the urge to scream each time someone stands behind me to use my phone, go into one of my drawers. Also, fight the urge to break something when I come to my desk twice to find Lisa sitting in it.
I ask Lisa how to enter something into the computer, and rather than tell me how, she sits in my vacant chair to let me watch her.
I try not to cry; Only this time, the tears would be out of annoyance that I'm never going to learn anything if people continue to not teach me how to do anything besides answer the phone and pay the bills. I'm starting to feel stagnant and useless.
My hair, which has finally dried, is flat and clinging to my head for dear life. It has no volume, no body. It just lays there, mocking me. This upsets me.
I try to make small talk with my coworkers to distract myself from my mounting frustration. I tell them the story of how I cut off all of Billy's hair on Saturday night. I tell them how his mane of longish curly locks was all over the bathroom floor when I was finally done with the cut, and that he now has roughly an inch of hair on his head. This is a huge deal for me for a number of reasons. One, I cut it. I've never cut any hair besides the plastic "hair" on my Barbies' heads when I was five. Two, I absolutely love it. Although I loved his long curly locks, he looks even sexier now. I wasn't sure it was possible for Billy to look any sexier than he already does. So this is big news for me.
No one cares, or bothers to acknowledge my story beyond a disinterested "Oh yeah?"
My freshly-shorn Billy calls to discuss my car issues. He tells me to park it facing out so that if I have to pop the clutch again, it'll be easier going forward than trying to do it in reverse. He tells me to start it often to keep the motor warm (it seems to start when it's warm). He tells me we'll get it fixed, not to worry. I feel instantly better knowing that he's there for me and willing to help. I hang up the phone and say out loud "I love that man." Again, no one acknowledges me. To make myself feel better (and less like a social pariah at work) I remind myself that my statement didn't warrant a reaction.
I write myself, and everyone else in the office, paychecks. This makes me happy.
Shortly after my check is written and deposited, a generous chunk of that paycheck is transferred out of my account to my savings (for my February bills) and to my car loan. I think of how much more of my paycheck will be gone after I replace my starter. The happiness of only moments before vanishes.
Billy calls with good news: He knows someone who used to work for Toyota and may be able to fix Gwen for me. He'll take my car tomorrow and leave me one to drive. I smile, thinking that I may have the best boyfriend ever.
I realize that this means I must clean out my car so that he and James will actually be able to sit in tomorrow to drive to work. This is bound to take up a large chunk of my evening. Yes, Gwen is that messy. But, looking at the silver lining, I realize that this needs to be done anyway. I continue to smile, due to the awesomeness of my boyfriend.
I answer the phone at 12:08 by saying "Good morning..." and the snotty customer on the other end of the line chastises me for not realizing that, clearly, it is after noon now. I check my urge to throw the phone at someone or something, to kill two birds with one stone.
It's one o'clock now. Obviously, I'm already ready for this day to end.