Friday, March 4, 2016

Life is Rough-age

Well shitballs. I wrote an entire post about what a bad mood I'm in and how sometimes life just piles on the shit, waiting patiently for you to almost suffocate before letting you catch your breath. In one fell swoop, I somehow accidentally deleted all the text and it took the moment to auto save before I could CTRL Z things. If that isn't a sign, then I can't tell you what is. Apparently the universe is telling me not to spread my negativity around, which I respect. So instead you get this gem, which will probably make you wish I would have just bitched about my bad mood instead....

9 months ago last Tuesday, yes I wrote this like 9 months ago and never published it so here we go... 9 months ago last Tuesday, I had Kashi Go Lean cereal for breakfast and the husband flew out to Pennsylvania for work. Me being the dramatic chipmunk I am, I immediately started thinking about the horrific plane crash that was bound to occur and imagining what my life would be like as a widow. His take off time was set for 11:30 and I had to be at work for a program that morning so he said he would stop before heading out to the airport to say our (final) goodbyes. So he came in and I managed to keep it together until I walked him to the lobby at which point I started bawling as a montage of our memories together ran through my head, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" (the Armageddon rendition) playing in the background. As he left and I came back in, my co-worker Amy asked me what was wrong. I told her he was leaving for a business trip and I'm a cry baby. Mind you this is not the first time he has gone away for work. Then she asked how long he was gone for, "What, until Thursday?" she joked. I looked at her in shame. Yes, a whole 59 hours. So what?! He was flying on a one prop death plane to Pennsylvania! I've seen Amish Mafia, I know what kind of hardcore, gangster shit those boys are into....

Later that day, I was on my break, accepting the fact I would probably soon be re-entering the dating pool and making my list of potential one-night stands when I was overcome with emotional. My stomach ached with trepidation and I felt a wave of dread coming over me. I escaped to the restroom once more. As I exited the staff restroom, Amy and I crossed paths as she headed to relieve herself. "Were you crying in the bathroom again?" She asked. Earlier we decided I'm definitely the cryer at work. I literally cry at least twice a month in the bathroom, which is why I have requested it be renamed the Rachel Lavender Memorial Staff Restroom once I die. I looked at her awkwardly and she took two more steps towards the RLMSR and finally I said forcefully, "Stop!" I looked at her in despair, "Don't go in there....I...I....I ate Kashi Go Lean for breakfast....." She stared at me " know..." Knowingly she nodded, "OH YEAH! That's a lot of fiber."

And that's the story of the time I thought I was going to shart myself in the breakroom.

No comments:

Post a Comment