Tova-xander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Today fucking sucked.
I mean, really fucking sucked.
I've had worse things happen to me. But really awful things are usually the only bad thing that happens in that day. The thing about a bad day is that it's comprised of a shitload of small, otherwise manageable trials. It's just that when a few of them happen, you can't manage any more. They string together like notches on a bedpost. Or a belt. Or some shit like that. Tiny things become insurmountable. An untied shoelace is akin to skinning your knee. Getting caught in the rain is akin to a car breaking down. And a car breaking down? Well, I might as well be kidnapped.
The day really started out just fine. The majority of it I was in a car, insulated from the evils of the world. I sang along to Blues Traveler and godawful a-cappella. Well, it may have been raining, but nothing could ruin my mood. Little Squirt slept in my lap and tried to eat my yummy bowtie pasta and chicken. I got soaked at a rest stop when I tried to pee. Not soaked by pee. Ew. It was raining really hard and the closest parking was like a half-mile across the lot. I swear, if the day before Thanksgiving is the busiest travel day of the year, the Sunday after Thanksgiving is the second busiest. I waited 20 minutes in a fucking filthy bathroom with screaming children being dragged to have their diapers changed. I skipped the winding lines for Famiglia Pizza and Chili's Too. Not worth the wait. What was also not worth the wait was the line to get back on the fucking highway. It was backed up from an accident and took another 20 minutes to get on. From then on it was predicted stop-and-go traffic from an accident at mile 152. At mile 160, however, I saw a Geo Metro, intact only moments before, with its entire front end smashed in. Clearly the driver had made some mistake the traffic while approaching the original accident. How ironic.
Anyway, I make it to Pittsburgh after only six hours. Not too shabby, considering the rain which turned to snow which turned back to rain and the backed up traffic. I was still ready to get home and conquer a group project for which I'd been rushing to get home.
So my neighbors have parked close in on either side of the driveway so I can't pull in. It's a narrow street and I can't get in at a wide enough angle the clear the cars. It ends of taking like 12 passes while the cars that are trying to get by honk at me.
I finally make it down the driveway, unfettered. I step into the house and my nipples fucking freeze off. It's a sultry 40 degrees inside. We had set the thermostat low while we all left for Thanksgiving. I just hadn't realized how low. So I turned it up and padded upstairs to freeze my ass off in the shower. I rushed around to gather all my materials for my group and run out the door in a sweatshirt. I get to my car and hear a strange hissing sound. Then I notice I have a fucking flat tire. Then I notice a fucking nail in the fucking tire. Fuck it.
So I run to the bus stop close to my house, realize I'll be waiting forever on a Sunday, and walk to the farther, more frequented stop. I still end up waiting for a half hour. In the rain. I'm late, but I'm not the last one to arrive, so still I have to wait.
I end up doing nearly the entire project by myself. I write the whole powerpoint and then have to teach how to search journals, have to teach what a journal is, and have to teach how to write an annotated bibliography. No one is cooperative. No one offers to do some of the project. Everyone forgot to bring articles and sources and to do the preparation for the meeting. So I have to compensate for it. I spend five hours in the library, doing that and other things. I wait a half hour for a print-out that never comes.
After dinner at McDonald's, the entire 20 minutes of which a creepy guy was staring at me and listening in on my phone conversation with my brother, I go to wait for the bus. Any bus. Usually one comes within ten minutes. But I waited for 40. In the rain. Wearing a sweatshirt. To make matters horrible, a drunk and possibly mentally disturbed man harassed me the entire time. He kept asking me where I lived, what I was doing, what were my goals in life. He asked me how old I was, and I said, "Does it really matter?" He asked me what bus I was waiting for and I said, "Whatever fucking one comes." He keeps mumbling about the 61A, and I vow to not take that bus if it's the first one that comes. Then he gets the idea that I want to steal his 6-pack and starts screaming, "It's mine! It's mine!" at me and whoever else walks by. He won't fucking shut up, and he starts talking about "fucking bitches controlling his life" and such. The bus that does come, mercifully, is not the one I really want, but I take it anyway and walk the extra blocks.
That's really the end of Tova-xander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I guess it wasn't so bad. There were a few goods things.
I finished three things on my list of things to do before the end of the semester. Only seven to go.
Squirt napped on my lap and kept me warm the whole drive home.
I made it home safely.
Dena made lodging accommodations for Dublin next month. Something great to look forward to.
I pet Cosmo, the adorable Westie who lives across the street. He has soft fur.
I have new boots and a brand new designer handbag from Abi.
Oh, and I had a fucking great, relaxing, wonderful, cathartic Thanksgiving. The best in recent memory.
Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
FUCK.