Sometimes It Doesn’t Pay to Get Out of Bed

Just when I thought this day couldn’t get much worse (save for an accident or major catastrophe), I came home to see that my precious cat had puked on my bed! And not just a little hairball, but a huge smear of wet green vomit. I have a periwinkle bedspread and no washing machine to just throw it in.

F.U.C.K…

God, this week has really fuckin’ sucked, frankly. This was the start of my busy season at work, and even though I’d prepared myself for it, I didn’t prepare myself for a sudden and rather drastic change in business plans. So, basically, most of the work that I’ve done with planning out the training, booking the rooms, and sending out invites has been a huge fucking waste of my fucking time. Yes, I feel like saying FUCK because I don’t have anyone to FUCK to make me feel better.

Then Mel decided to be passive-aggressive with me this morning. Considering the crappy day I’d had yesterday, she’s really lucky I didn’t rip her goddamn head off.

I’ve got a dry vodka martini calling my name…

Trace Out!