Friday Doomsday

So, when you're grumpy and sad on a Thursday, and it turns into Friday morning, here's what happens (as told to Zesty in an email this morning):

I had to drop off my RRBF and my brother, and then go to work. Keep in mind it was at opposite ends of the city.

1. Got up extra early to drive them. We were on the road by 7.09 AM.

2. My brother gets in the car, clothes smelling like smoke, and I cough for a few minutes. And then I stop feeling sorry for myself and open up a damn window. Problem solved.

3. They stop at Tim Horton's. I get a gross bagel that I didn't even really want in the first place.

4. We drive to some obscure neighbourhood in North York. I pay no attention to details a) because it's morning b) because I'm tired c) because I'm just not thinking. (Here's the part where it becomes my fault, even though I won't admit it.)

5. They try to explain to me how to get back to somewhere I might recognize.

6. I start off and get lost on the FIRST TURN.

7. I am lost, crying in a Country Style parking lot, talking to my RRBF on the phone because I had somehow ended up at Bayview and Finch when I should have been at Dufferin and Wilson.

8. Continue to cry.

9. Cry more and have my RRBF sort of yell at me to calm down.

10. Go the right direction, make it to the 401, which is a parking lot.

11. Get to work almost 45 minutes later than I normally would.

12. Immediately realize I don't have a lot to do today, and didn't have to worry about being late in the first place.

Sigh. It's a damn good thing it's a long weekend.

So there.