Gardiner's furniture sucks. Just so you know.
Today has been a monumental pain thus far-- a literal pain in my back. I feel like I've been whacked with a 2x4 right below my shoulderblades, and I keeps getting stiffer as the day wears on. I'll bet it's due to improper shoveling technique.
But the thing that was the most frustrating? Skyler stayed last night, and he dropped me off at the bus stop on his way out. I had a steaming mug of coffee, and besides, the morning was sunny and relatively warm despite the eight inches or so of snow still on the ground. The roads were clear, though-- dry, except for thin, shallow puddles right at the very edges of the sidewalk.
The wait was only about five minutes or so, but in that five minutes, a speeding Gardener's truck veered dangerously close to the curb and splattered me head to toe in greyish slush. Slush that, I might add, was chock full of chemical salt. In short, I was completely doused by a salty Slurpee.
Yes, it got in my eyes, and it stung like mad. Yes, it got in my coffee. Yes, I was sopping wet and frozen solid for the better part of two hours. My jacket now needs a serious cleaning, as it is bespeckled by cheetah-esque spots. And I was standing five feet from the curb.
I pulled out a hand-mirror when I boarded the bus to check to see if my makeup was running down my face (and indeed, it was), only to find my hair and forehead were dotted with crusty rings of drying salt. As the day wears on, I keep finding more in the oddest places-- under my chin, behind my ears. Charming.
Assholes, man.
But tonight will be better. Once I am home, I'm going to take an indulgently long shower, throw on some warm and mismatched pajamas, and watch the latest episode of The L Word while sipping flowering tea. And I will chuckle evilly to myself about how that Gardiner's guy has to be up at 4:30am every morning.
But the thing that was the most frustrating? Skyler stayed last night, and he dropped me off at the bus stop on his way out. I had a steaming mug of coffee, and besides, the morning was sunny and relatively warm despite the eight inches or so of snow still on the ground. The roads were clear, though-- dry, except for thin, shallow puddles right at the very edges of the sidewalk.
The wait was only about five minutes or so, but in that five minutes, a speeding Gardener's truck veered dangerously close to the curb and splattered me head to toe in greyish slush. Slush that, I might add, was chock full of chemical salt. In short, I was completely doused by a salty Slurpee.
Yes, it got in my eyes, and it stung like mad. Yes, it got in my coffee. Yes, I was sopping wet and frozen solid for the better part of two hours. My jacket now needs a serious cleaning, as it is bespeckled by cheetah-esque spots. And I was standing five feet from the curb.
I pulled out a hand-mirror when I boarded the bus to check to see if my makeup was running down my face (and indeed, it was), only to find my hair and forehead were dotted with crusty rings of drying salt. As the day wears on, I keep finding more in the oddest places-- under my chin, behind my ears. Charming.
Assholes, man.
But tonight will be better. Once I am home, I'm going to take an indulgently long shower, throw on some warm and mismatched pajamas, and watch the latest episode of The L Word while sipping flowering tea. And I will chuckle evilly to myself about how that Gardiner's guy has to be up at 4:30am every morning.