Monday, I had a little trouble with the part of the commute where I get my arse out of bed. So I was running just a hair late and then I was maybe a hair and a freckle late and then I totally missed my train. So I drove to BART because I didn’t want to be the extra hour late and the car tire didn’t look too deflated. (Yeah. I’ve…really got to get around to getting that tire actually fixed, as opposed to seemingly fixed, only it kind of goes flat again over time.)
Tuesday, I had a little trouble with the part of the commute where I say to myself, Dude, seriously, are you planning to have crackers for lunch AGAIN?! You do too have time, throw together a lunch. NOW, MISSY!
And then I missed my train by about two minutes and once again drove to Train #2 because once again, the stupid tire isn’t looking significantly flat and I’d rather not be late getting in. Because if I’m late getting in I’m going to be late getting out, and that means more crowded trains and the danger of not getting home before I hit the Wall of Tired – which sucks because when I hit that wall before any dinner machinations are underway, the cranky-whiny-irrationally-angry thing is not pretty.
I worked from home Wednesday because I had sort of planned to because in related news, I had planned to tackle this dude I want to help, and I had found this itty-bitty corner of his daily calendar that wasn’t solid meetings and was all, “Ha ha! I have you now, because while it may be six a.m. in California, it is nine a.m. back there in Charlotte so even if you are working banker’s hours you should totally be in by then!”
…except that he walked straight into a meeting that wasn’t showing on his calendar and curses!, I worked from home for “nothing” except that it was kinda nice that instead of having to get up at 3:30 to make a 4:49 train so that I could be in the office by 6:30, I could totally just roll out of bed at 5:30 and be working by 6:00.
Working from home rocks that way. Although it rocks even more when you roll out of bed at 8:00 and get cracking by 9:30 after three cups of coffee, a thorough reading of the newspaper and maybe even a shower.
Which brings me to this morning, when I had a little trouble with the part of my commute where I
(Please to note: Queen of Run On Sentences That Make No Sense – I still own that crown. Peace to my peoples!)
Aaaaaanyway, guess what?!?!
I pulled into the parking lot at precisely 6:03:45.
Just as the crossing guards were coming down across the road.
And I said…well, I said something like “Oh my gracious and dearie me, it appears that I may be about to miss that marvelous train, bless it and all its crew members!”
Yeah. Something like that. Ahem.
And then as I went through the motions, pretending that there was some way I could get through the parking lot, park, yank my assorted bags out of the trunk, trot my backside alllllll the way over to the platform and dive through the already closing doors and make it…the doors closed and off she went into the hills.
AND I HIT THE ROOF. BECAUSE! It was 6:04. SIX. OH. FOUR.
And that? That? Was the 6:09. Wait. 6. It was the 6:06, and it was 6:04, so…What. The. @^*&@, ACE?!?!?!?!
I was so incensed that I got out of the car (I have no idea why this was necessary, but apparently I felt my rage should not be kept in an enclosed space), grabbed my phone and got on the Internet for ACE rail contact information so that I could read somebody the riot act. SIX. OH. SIX, PEOPLE! AND IT IS SIX. OH. FOUR RIGHT NOW, SO WHY-WHY-WHY AM I NOT ON THAT @^*&@*&ING TRAIN?!?!?
(We shall conveniently ignore the fact that getting my backside out the door in a slightly more timely fashion would have been of great help on this.)
(And that perhaps deciding to finish off an anime series – which I can only really watch after the Denizens are safely in bed on account of because it may have been a tad on the gory side – was probably not my best plan ever on a work night.)
And thus it was that I learned that six.oh.six is actually…the six.oh.four.
Fortunately, I learned this on the website and not by being told so by somebody who had just been chewed out by me about their lack of consideration and inexcusable ahead-of-timeliness.
And then I started to kick the tire because something had to suffer along with me.
And then I noticed that, just to mock me, that stupid tire was all flabby again.
I considered my options very, very carefully.
And then I went and bought doughnuts for the Denizens, drank some more coffee, annoyed the husband until he gave up and got out of bed, and settled in for another work from home day.
Where one of the keywords for my position is attention to detail.
I was born for this line of work, people.
(Oi. So glad Friday is National Congress Resolved At Some Point We Are Pretty Sure And If You Do Not Believe Us You Can Go Look It Up On Their Website That It Is A Basic Human Right To Work From Home On Fridays No Matter What Day. I’m a little afraid of what might happen if I were to miss that train again tomorrow…I might spontaneously combust or something…)
You amaze me. I'm not even human at the hour you normally start work. I feel like such an under-achiever now. :-)
But I'm not going to do anything about it! LOL
Thank dog I don't have your commute! All I have to do is wake in the middle of the night, feed a wee one, wake again a couple hours later (7-ish), commute wee one down one flight of stairs to her grammy, shower, get dressed, back downstairs to meet up with my sis, then commute 15 minutes to work with coffee in hand. Ahh...
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