Stradding the fence between the good, helpful kind of stress and the bad, crippling type of stress yesterday, I returned home after putting the final touches on several ladybug cake pops to find that my cable was out. The cable technicians had been out that morning to fix my neighbor’s cable, and apparently fixing his signal means messin’ mine up. Thanks guys.
Coming home yesterday and having one more thing go wrong because people are stupid? That was it for me. I wanted to cry… I wanted an outlet for all the built-up frustration and stress so that I could feel normal again, but without some Animal Planet Heroes or similar “my dog/cat/gerbil/whooping crane pet saved us from certain death” stories on the boob tube, the salty tears of release would not come.
Then this morning, driving into work via the long way because I didn’t want to sit in traffic, I read the following notice on the flashing billboard, “SPEEDING STRICTLY ENFORCED WHILE DRIVING ON STATION.”
OK, um, seriously?! Read it again… SPEEDING STRICTLY ENFORCED. I should’ve whipped out my illegal camera phone, snagged a photo and then proceed to do 70mph all the way to my building, and then when the cops pulled me over I could’ve played the role of the incredibly literate blonde, “Oh Officer, you mean the sign MEANT speed LIMITS strictly enforced, not speeding strictly enforced?! Well, why didn’t they just say so? I mean, I was TRYING to abide by the law!”
Seriously… If a holiday is going to fall on a Tuesday, the world should just get the week off… because I need a) time and b) sleep; the cable guys need a) a map of where their clients live and b) a drawing of how their wires work; and the guy who typed the message into the sign this morning? He needs a refresher course at grammar school.