If I Were a Girl, I'd Always Be Freaking Out (I'm always late)

I hate mornings...hate them!

Those "early birds" and "morning pollyannas" make me want to hurl (or slap them). With their constant "SmiiIIIIiiile" and "Goodness...it's a beautiful morning." Seriously, it makes me want to pull out a shotgun and blow the bluebird that's warbling a duet with these (eeech) morning people to kingdom come.

Now that you know how I feel on the inside...let me fill you in on something...I am a complete zombie in the a.m. My roommate laughs at me because I constantly run into things when I wakeup (you know, like, let's say, something as well hidden as a doorjamb or hmmm, a wall or two).

I hate mornings so much that I'll take a shower before going to bed, so I won't have to get up earlier...even 5 more minutes of snooze is "Golden Time" for me.

Because of this lack of energy in the morning...I am always running behind schedule for work--ALWAYS. I like to get to work at 7:50...ten minutes before I have to start, so I can get situated...I think it's happened twice.

This morning I had to take a shower, because I was up late last night doing laundry (I knew I should have taken a shower before going to bed, but was too tired).

The alarm went off...I hit snooze and accidentally turned off my alarm--DON'T PANIC-- I know myself, so I set another alarm on my cell phone... I get up and into the shower with the speed of a geriatric turtle on downers. I actually start to wake up as I turn the water to scalding so that I wouldn't freeze when I get out (it didn't work).

I'm trying to get dressed when my 2nd alarm on my cell phone goes off (the one that signals I should already be in my car and on my way), and I can't figure out which of the short-sleeved, pique polo shirts I want to be seen in today. I am in a pissy mood--god I hate mornings.

Finally I get dressed and jump into the car, not caring that I'm way behind schedule, when I realize that I have to get gas (GOD DAMMIT). My delays are getting out of control. Then to top it off, I hear the telltale "knocking" that means oil change time.

I get gas, a quart of oil, and 2 Rockstar energy drinks (morning meal when swigged while smoking at least 3 cigarettes). Amazingly I am not that late...somehow I had made up time, but I knew that I would shortly meet my nemesis. The duel that existed every day, like two gunfighters in the wild, wild west (only, one of them would have a holster with matching belt and spurs). This arch rival and I have encountered each other every day...It was the inevitable battle that I almost always lost.

It was Palm Lane...a small, tiny little side street off a MAJOR street, and it was the bane of my existence as I ran late every day...

I don't know how it happens (did I have a microchip secretly implanted one night, keyed to make me stop at the intersection from hell?), but EVERY time I come to that damn light, it changes. What's worse is when I could've made it, but the associates of Palm Lane hinder me. This might be a little crazy, but I think Palm Lane gives a little kick back to the blue hairs that drive increasingly slower as I am behind them.

The one detail, of this little side street with a light, that curdles my milk the most, is that it doesn't change for 5 minutes. Today I thought for sure that I would win the duel... I might make it to work on time...SCREECHING HALT.

I threw my hands up in the air after hitting the steering wheel, and yelled, "WhhhhhhhhhHHHy," at the top of my lungs, much to the chagrin of the other motorists. I shook my fist at the light, knowing it would taunt me for at least 3 more minutes.

So, I finally get to work (only 4 minutes late), when I notice my ashtray smouldering like the gaze of Dart Hotty. I then have to spend valuable moments trying to put out every butt that has somehow ignited...causing me to lose more face in my boss's eyes (it was the pyrokenisis of Palm Lane--it had to be-I KNOW IT. DAMN THAT PALM LANE!).

So here I am, "working" away...still tired, and hating Palm Lane.

Hope you all got to work on time, and if not...you know who to blame it on.

deutschmarc