It’s Holly

… no really. I’m pretty sure it’s the worst morning ever. Let’s start from the beginning…

I wake up at 5AM like I usually do on Mondays, so I can get to work at 7. (I usually don’t get in until 8 Tuesday - Thursday, then 7AM again on Friday). Everything’s just fine. I pay a couple bills online that I forgot about while I was in Paris, and I still have $37 left. Everything’s just great! I do all my bathroom stuff and whatnot, and take off to work (which is about an hour commute… without traffic, mind you).

I get about 30 miles into my drive when I scratch my eye…and apparently my cornea at the same time ’cause I couldn’t see. Turns out I rubbed a little too hard and ripped the edge of my disposible contact (damn weak disposables!! where’s my extended wear?). After I pull over at a Shell station in BFE, I take out my contact and begin my 30 mile trek back home, one hand on the wheel and the other over my right eye. Dangerous? Yes! I like to live in danger.

I get home, put my glasses on (which are probably just as dangerous as driving with 1 contact, considering the perscription is 4 years old) and drink a naked juice (a good 16 oz) and some water. And off I go again. I take the toll road (which you gotta pay for) ’cause there’s never any traffic and it’s quicker to get to work, and my ass is late already anyway. The toll road ain’t nothin’ but a road , a toll, and some mountains. The 16oz of 100% pure juice is catchin’ up with me, and sista gotta pee. My bladder is officially full.. so full that there are beads of sweat rolling down my cheeks and I officially can no longer see the color blue. I’m hurting. My stomach is cramping, and there’s TRAFFIC. on the frickin’ toll road. there’s NEVER traffic on the toll road! Who wants to pay to be in traffic? Apparently, I do. I can’t exactly pull off of the toll road, because there’s not really anything out there but track homes (and I’m not tryin’ to knock on no ones door), and if I pull off and get back on, I have to pay the toll to exit AND to get back on (bastards). I’m making all sorts of weird sounds I never thought I’d make while cussing people out for breaking on the freeway (”…I don’t CARE if there’s a ladder in the road!! I HAVE TO PEE!’…”). At this point, I’m pretty sure people are staring at me doing the pee pee dance in my car. So I hold it until I’m abou 5 minutes from work until I get to the mall, where I know there’s a breakfast place open (Thank you, Corner Bakery!). Ahh… relief. I swore I moved the water line in that toilet… sista’s bladder can do some damage.

and that, my loyal reader(s), was the worst morning ever. what’s yours?