On a scale of one to childbirth, I’ll give it a root canal . . .

Skewed Priorities Warning: the following post contains a sustained whining rant from someone who knows how good she has it but didn’t much care at the time.  She is currently self-medicating with an affectionate cat and her beloved copy of BBC’s Sherlock, so all should look rosier tomorrow.

I ran out of diet Pepsi yesterday, but didn’t realize until it was too late to go get some.

I didn’t have time to go to the store before work this morning.

The only pop machine in the library was broken.

When I dragged myself to the staff coffeepot—which should tell you how bad things were—the pot was empty and the cupboards were bare.

And I’m out of Advil.

By lunchtime,  I was in some distress.   The diet Pepsi monkey was gibbering in my ear and banging on the back of my skull with his rubber mallet, until he got bored and brought out the ice pick.

The waitress took pity on me and brought out a pitcher.  I can now think straight—and very, very quickly—but I won’t be doing much sleeping tonight.

But that’s okay, because I realized at lunch (after my third refill) that my favorite scene isn’t going to &$#%& work the way it’s written because I’m not writing the sequel to Inception or Wanted, which means the natural laws that govern bullet trajectories are actually important.   At least I realized it for myself this time—I know how to fix it, I think, but, dang it, it reads so well . . .

Plus it’s the full moon tonight, which means all of our Very Special Patrons came into the library today in force and all the Very Special Drivers were on the roads during the evening rush hour.  I should know—I was one of them.

In retrospect, driving on too much caffeine while listening to Apocalyptica wasn’t the best idea, especially when half of my usual route is blocked by either the rising Mississippi or sandbags and the drivers in front of me seemed physically incapable of putting their right foot down on the small pedal, no dear, that would be the brake you’re tapping for no reason as there’s no one in front of you for a mile and I’m keeping three full car lengths behind you even though we’re going fifteen miles below the limit, because you’ve had your right signal on for ten minutes, and please shut it off unless you actually mean to turn into the River, because I’m just about ready to help you.   All. The. Way. Home.

But, you know me, can’t complain.

How was your day?

____

Wondermark! is an example of the pure genius that is David Malki !

12 thoughts on “On a scale of one to childbirth, I’ll give it a root canal . . .

  1. Having a Diet Pepsi-less day myself so I empathize. Not about to get in the car and go get some, it being rush hour and full moon. Will distract myself with writing and baseball, in that order. And, if you ask me, that driver deserved a dunk in the river. Might’ve opened her eyes. Hope tonight is better.

    • The evening was both better and worse, as my kids cheered me up and my husband pretty much proved that I can’t salvalge much of that scene at all.

      Stupid laws of physics . . .

      I don’t usually threaten timid drivers with imminent death—it’s bullying and counterproductive—but in the mood I was in, everything s/he did seemed like a passive-aggressive pole at me personally. That doesn’t justify it, at all, but Holy Cow.

  2. I applaud your strength. I would have had an “emergency” book issue and gone out and got the caffeine. You are a gentlewoman and a scholar. Come to think of it, if I were to show up uncaffeinated at work, I bet the gentlemen I work with would offer to go get me a cup.
    Huh. Probably because I’m so darn pleasant like that…

    Well, the good news about the book would be that there is a problem and you know how to fix it! See there? Glass half full.

    • Thanks, Lyra,

      But it looks like my fix won’t work, either, which means a total rewrite . . . All I need is a bullet graze on one person and a blood trail from another. Is that too much to ask? 😛

  3. Ok, the blog title is a keeper (and by that I mean a stealer!)

    So how was your (fill in the blank)?

    On a scale of one to childbirth I’d give it a root canal.

    Yup, I’m so using that.

    And I agree with MSB about your inspirational diligence.

  4. Damn, that -is- an irritating day. Why does it seem like those days just keeping going until you finally pull into home (and sometimes even after that)? I’m sorry to hear about your scene, but even if there’s not much to salvage, when it does come to light, it’ll shine. One, you’re too damn good for it not to, and two, ’cause you work so damn hard.

    Now, that I’ve used damn three (four now) times, I hope that you’ve understood that I feeel for you. Make sure to double check for the Diet-Pepsi from now on!

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