quicko: a day in the life

It was one of those days that started absolutely brilliantly. I had to get up early, but I found my favorite white dress to wear and I waltzed to work feeling alarmingly charming.

Obviously by noon my dress had met the BBQ sauce, and by the time I left work I was running 15 minutes late. Fairly normal, really, but my mood turned sour when I learned there were 8 minutes (8! I was late!) to wait for my train, which would then need 6 minutes to get me to Wynyard, where I would require another 4 to meet my bus, which would have already left. It was also about this time that I realized I rather desperately required a restroom, but, thankfully, I have had ample practice holding it (See, for example, 12 years of public education, a trip to Bryce Canyon at age 12 with no clean facilities for 3 days and 15 minute teaching breaks that just don't quite cut it. But I digress.). I turned in disgust and crossed the street to catch a bus. Amazingly, one came almost immediately and I hopped on it, then made the fatal mistake of daydreaming until I realized we'd just passed my stop. Knowing I was then closer to Circular Quay than Wynyard, I stayed on and got off at Circular Quay -- just in time to see the train I should have been on go past.

That was when my mood turned really foul and I had to remind myself that saying nasty things under my breath is not the best way of dealing with such situations. I haven't worked out is, but that was beside the point. I'd missed my train. Thankfully another came shortly thereafter and took me to the bus after the bus I would have caught if I'd got on the train I could have gotten on in the first place. Not that I'm bitter.

I finally made it, thirty minutes late, slightly disheveled and in desperate need of a restroom. But at least I still felt pretty.