getting the finger for my finger.

what was the name of that book? "The Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day?"

it was written for me.

no doubt about it.

it's not that i woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i didn't. i felt good, my day started out great.

then, i got to work.

what was it my grandma used to say? oh yeah. it all went to hell in a henbasket.

or was it hand basket? no matter.


it was just nutty.
in case you didn't know, didn't care or plain ol' forgot, my job involves making sure my department is clear from all ads that are going to press that day.

today i had 175 incomplete ads, that all needed to be completed by 2pm.
riiiiight.

it was nutty. i got a headache that i still have. the breaking point, for me anyway, was when, around 1pm, one of the supervisors emails to all of us "should we split apart the reports?"

um, hello?! where was that brilliant idea earlier this morning when i had freaking near 200 ads to complete?

ah. mental greatness.

so. we eventually got done. but in the meantime...

i had an appointment with my old orthopedic doctor today. my right index finger hurts. really hurts. especially on the side of my knuckle. i assume it's arthritis, i do have it, just in my hips, not my finger.
and did i mention i'm right handed?

fun.

today, my doctor's office manager called. seems they don't accept my insurance any longer, so i would have to be considered as a cash patient.

so how much would it cost for me to be a cash patient today? i ask.

ummmmm, about $315.

three hundred and fif....holy freaking crap. i guess i'll live with the pain.

(actually, i'll just call my regular doctor. even though he's a schmuck and i cannot stand him.)

then.

i stopped at the grocery store on my way home tonight. and, of course, got in the line being held up by the elderly woman in a wheelchair, arguing the price of a cheap bottle of whiskey. then her son said "ma, remember what happened last time. the mobile home association sent you that letter and stuff."

except he didn't say stuff. and no, i'm not making this up. you cannot make this stuff up.

as i rolled my eyes, the store manager walked by, touched my arm and said "miss, i'll help you on 7."

ooooh! he said miss!!!!

i unloaded my stuff. then, this giant lug of a courtesy clerk (we called 'em bag boys in my day, dagnabbit) stops at the end of the checkout stand and the manager asked him to pick up the baskets...don't just stand there.

so he walks to the head of the check out stand. right.past.me. hello?! is my butt invisible?

well, my butt may be, but i guarantee my mouth wasn't.

can you say excuse me? i snapped. yes, Gentle Reader, i was bitchy. and i liked it.

he looked at me. i honestly don't think he had a concept of what i was saying. the woman behind me, however, was laughing her butt off.

the manager didn't look amused. he tried to apologize, but i shut him down with some trite comment to the effect of rudekidsinamericathesedays, whodotheirparentsthinkthey'redoingafavornotdisciplining,needstoshowsomerespectandiamneverEVERsteppingfootinthisstoreagain.

whatever.

so - what have we learned today?
* good ideas aren't, if they come too late.
* my insurance sucks right now.
* finger still hurts.
* rude people suck.
and most importantly -
* i'm gonna be that cranky old broad that yells at the kids to 'get off my lawn.'

time for my meds. too bad i don't have any.