Beer + Couch = Bliss

My day starts off well. I get up in the morning, on time, feeling pretty good. I am excited for the all day meeting at work because I am finally going to get to learn a system I have been dying to learn. I jump in the car at 7:20 am, right on time. I get on the highway, and there is traffic, which is not unusual. I think, I have 40 minutes to get to the office, no problem. A few minutes will be no big deal. 45 minutes later I have gone a quarter of a mile. An hour and ten minutes later, I arrive at work. A half hour late. Awesome.

Hi world. Thank you for taking a giant shit on me.

I spend 8 hours listening to a room full of people try to get NDM working between two systems. I said nothing. I did nothing. The highlight of the day was the Cheetos I ate for breakfast. Yes, this followed the dinner of chicken wings. I am healthy. I also had Arby's for lunch. Suck it.

8 hours of agony later, I am free! It is a gorgeous day! I am going to take the dogs to the park! I stand up and that was the end of it. A very small man had attached himself to my lower back and was shoving shards of glass into my spine. So, I walked out of the office hunched over. And possibly dragging a leg. All I needed was a bell tower and a beautiful woman to fall in love with.

I am finally in my car. I am driving. Home. To my couch. And beer. And my couch. Now on a scale of crazy, where 1 is boringly sane and 10 is a padded cell, I am probably a 6. Definitely above average, probably should be medicated, but not hospitalized. I got behind a 10. This woman was waving her hands all over the place, swerving, honking her horn, and slamming on the breaks at, what I can only presume, was some kind of imaginary adversary in a vehicle. Because there was NO ONE around her. Except me. And I was keeping my distance.

Luckily for me, she got off at my exit. So, I was behind her, in a perpetual state of terror, for approximately 12 miles. When I get off the exit, I look over and it is three little old ladies. They are laughing and chattering happily, windows down, enjoying the nice day. I picture myself as those women, with my girlfriends, in 50 years, still enjoying life and I smile. Then I give them the finger.

I bet you think this story is over. Oh, my imaginary friends, it is not. Shortly after gesturing obscenely at old ladies, I go to turn left into the bank. My windows are all down. When somewhere, approximately inside my ear, a police officer blows that "you better pull your ass over" horn thingy and, let me just say, it was a good thing my foot was on the brake not the gas. Because holy fucking shit it was loud. IN MY EAR. Then he whizzes by me and pulls this Jag over in the gas station across the street. So, I go on my merry way, deposit my checks, and pull out of the bank. There are now 4 cop cars in the parking lot, a kid cuffed, laying face first on the ground, and the remaining cops are searching the Jag. And, the traffic is backed up because EVERYONE is slowing down to stare at this kid, I guess hoping to identify the kid? Or witness police brutality? I can't be sure. Luckily the guy behind me honked his horn, pulling me out of my gawking state.

What a crazy fucking day. If you need me, I will be on the couch. With a beer.