My not-so awesome day
My day started out with a bad night’s sleep. Hooray, it’s Monday and I’m tired. Being tired meant staying in bed a little too long trying to convince my body to do what my brain told it to do. This threw off my schedule enough that I was a few minutes late getting out the door. I get about a block out before the section of my brain that calculates temperature tells me that it’s a bit chilly (it’s about 10 C, windy and I’m wearing a short sleeve shirt). Damn. Welp, too late to go back for a jacket, I need to catch my bus. Unfortunately, events conspired to have me arrive at the crosswalk of Hastings and Sperling just as the wrong light turns red, which means mashing the walk button won’t have any effect for a couple of minutes. End result? I miss my bus.
And another.
As I silently curse the Crosswalk Gods, the light finally changes and I cross the street to watch yet another bus take off. The next bus is not crowded and just happens to have a driver with a lead foot. For gas and brake. Trying to prevent my head from smashing into the pole in front of me meant I could not sleep on the way to work, but at least I got a seat.
I get to work and a script flaked out over the weekend. Yay, stats triage. Fixing it takes the better part of the day, and when I almost think I’ve got it, a bug crops up and I spend the next two hours poking at code, trying to make it go. Final cause? I used the parent object instead of the inheireted object and the parent object’s version of the function didn’t rotate an array’s contents. I was rather close to writing an ugly workaround hack that my co-workers likely would’ve tarred and feathered me for.
On the way home, I forget my wallet on my desk, prompting a mad dash back to the elevator to go up and down 27 floors. Then there’s a conspiracy theorist on the bus rambling about how the government was getting into all of our private data. The rant is sparked by the bus driver asking him where he was going in order to determine if he had to pay one or two zones. “I’ll go where I want to go, I don’t have to tell you where I’m going. What are you, my mom? Gonna hold my hand? I’ll go where I wanna go.” Way to show the maturity of a 14 year old girl and convince no one that you’re “sticking it to the man.” I see your intelligence peaking at the level of “tampon wrapper.”
And so it happened, tonight was my night to cook. I managed to mistime the cooking of the stir fry, almost forgot to cook the rice and forgot to put more oil on the frying pan, which resulted in some bread crumbs from the pork catching on fire. Fortunately, I saved the pork chop and put out the fire, but not before some smoke drifted out of the kitchen, prompting a few curious roommates to wonder what the hell was going on. I guess it’s a good thing the kitchen smoke detector is unplugged, as steam seems to set it off. Apparently dinner tasted fine, so I guess in the end it’s not so much presentation as it is taste. I won’t be trying out for Iron Chef anytime soon, that’s for sure.
In the end, it wasn’t a terrible day, just not the best of days. Perhaps it brought some entertainment to you, dear reader. I’m just really glad our beer fridge is stocked.