Thought it would start good enough. Actually got out a little early (on my way to seeing the insurance appraiser and My Fucking Father outside, and look how that turned out) and arrived at work without any undue back-ups, so not only was I able to get a breakfast sandwich at Subway, but I was able to eat there as well. Then I saw a BOGO sign -- buy one biscuit, get another free. Even better! But then I got really full shortly after I finished the second biscuit, and by the way, the biscuits were all dry and crumbly, and when I got up from the table there were crumbs all over. The guy must've been pissed at me, and also the biscuits he has to serve.
(Aside: When did people start to trash Subway? I remember back in my high school days Subway was the game-changer fast food restaurant, the "healthier" alternative to McDonald's and Burger King. Seems as though they have been around so long that either they've lost their edge or people have gotten tired of them. Regardless, Subway has itself been upstaged by Chipotle, and now Subway, whose sandwich concept was mind-blowing for me, is now regarded as just as bad as McDonald's or Burger King. Time is a mutha.)
So I had this logy feeling in my colon for the rest of the day, and although shitting a couple times alleviated it, it didn't completely go away. And it didn't help that the shorts that I bought when the Macy's in St. Paul was closing more than a year (or is it two?) ago was tiny enough to squeeze my gut. Maybe I bought shorts that were too small, or maybe I'm getting fat. I don't know; it's uncomfortable.
And then I tried to go to sleep outside for lunch. Fuck My Fucking Father, that asshole. But almost halfway through lunch the heat finally got to me, and I could feel sweat seeping into my clothes and out of my forehead pores. When I cracked open my windows when I parked my car in the morning I was afraid that they weren't low enough. But I didn't want them too low; I didn't want anyone just reaching into my car and taking stuff, and there was a chance for rain during the afternoon. But it wasn't coming for lunch, so I said screw it with napping for afternoon break, turned on my car, rolled up the windows all the way, and went to the gas station to buy myself a Coke.
Didn't rain in the afternoon. Just decided to rest my eyes with the fucking door open.
Then the first phase of the project isn't over, so I was stuck for the rest of the afternoon doing those. Can't get done with them fast enough.
Finally I go home in the sweltering summer heat. The old car is doing just fine, but I'm still looking at the temperature gauge every chance I get, ready to pull over to the shoulder as soon as it spikes up. It never did that. In fact, it may have been resting a little cooler than normal ... .which I also think is weird. I can't live like this; if I am scared that my engine is overheating, well, then, the engine is overheating. How is driving with this anxiety any different from actually having a car that breaks down with you in it?
And then My Fucking Father blindsides me with sleeping in the car. What's it matter to you? Like sleeping in a car is a sign that I'm a loser. I'm a loser because I have you as a dad. Prick.
If I want this day to be over, I should go to bed. Unfortunately, what should be a similarly disappointing day is waiting for me in the morn, which isn't that far away.
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