My day got off to a bad start. Actually, it started at 1:45 a.m. That’s when a group of very drunk patrons from the bar below our hotel let out, and these people needed a place to continue partying. Well, of course put them in rooms located in the middle of the floor (mine) so that they bother everyone on their way to and around their rooms. I was rudely awakened out of a sound sleep which had lasted all of a precious hour and a half. When I am abruptly awakened by something loud and ongoing it gets my adrenaline pumping. It pumps real fast if I have to get out of my bed to investigate, and then deal with the intrusion myself. The intrusion happened to be one very drunk male, who was yelling and singing in the hallway, and his female companion who was not too far behind him in inebriation. They were in turn supported by a host of other drunks who pounded on the door of the room right next to mine to get whoever was in there to let them in to a
party where even more alcohol was awaiting them.
I opened my door to inform them there were actually people trying to sleep at that hour, and could they please be quiet, but they never heard me over their loud singing and laughing. I wish I’d had a stun gun. That would have gotten someone’s attention. I went back to bed, but was never able to get back to sleep. I had on my ear buds listening to soft music, and not even that worked. I watched the clock periodically, disbelieving I was still awake. They kept going in and out of rooms. The slamming of doors wasn't exactly conducive to lulling me to sleep, either. Finally, at 5:30 a.m. they went to bed to sleep it off. Unfortunately for me, I had someplace to be this morning, and I had to get up.
I laid there until 7:30 hoping it was daylight savings and I could maybe squeeze out another hour to try to get some sleep. Barring that, I sat up and forced myself to a comatose, yet standing position and made it to the bathroom. I headed downstairs for some serious coffee to wake me up. I had on my best bitch face as I rolled up to the reception desk. Confidante was on duty. Fortunately, I was distracted from laying a tirade on him by a host of minor irritations, namely Squid. Getting nowhere with sympathy, I went upstairs to shower, and after groggily making sure my underwear was on right side out, I prepared to leave. On top of no sleep, a sour stomach and a headache, the morning was crowned by a bad hair day. Nothing I did to my hair was destined to help it behave. In my opinion, this was just wrong on multiple levels.
The day turned out to be completely non productive. I tried to take a nap for an hour and a half, but a phone call followed by a knock on the door fifteen minutes later, put the kabbosh on that. I had no energy to work, but I did make it to 5:00 Mass. I figured I needed all the help I could get. My car fortunately knows the way on its own. By the time I got home, all I wanted was a good meal and to get to bed to catch up on sleep. Apparently, I needed it too because in my semi-conscious state, I grabbed my Stein Mart card instead of my credit card, and after walking all the way to the restaurant, I only discovered my mistake as I was about to order. I walked all the way back to the hotel to
get the card. I failed to mention here, that it was so humid you could feel your hair curl, and God only knows what the temperature was. It was Hot. I went up to get my credit card, but forgot something else I needed and had to turn around and go back to my room.
If I thought things couldn’t get any more trying, that’s when God sicced Confidante on me in the parking deck. Here was another lesson I apparently failed to learn about handling things properly, and he was going to set me straight. Don’t come at me when my brain is a quart low. I didn’t complain to the front desk like the other four guests who called downstairs, because after the fact, there was nothing anyone could have done at that point to put me back to sleep short of anesthesia. Yes, next time I will call the front desk, shoot the bastards myself, or sleep in my car. But, right now, my brain is not absorbing much of what you’re saying.
I finally made it to the restaurant. Screw the fact it had begun to rain. By that point, you could have shot-putt cow patties at me, and I wouldn’t have cared. I brought home an order of spaghetti with mushrooms and meatballs with garlic bread. Normally, I can only eat half of one of their servings. Tonight, I ate the entire dinner, along with a glass and a half of red wine. I forgot to mention the two cookies. They knew I had a bad day, and volunteered themselves in sacrifice. So did my white slacks. All it took was one
stray attack of flying sauce.
The fact that I’m posting my blog speaks to my sorry mental state. I should be in my jammies by now because it’s after 10:30 p.m. I have no idea where my second wind came from, but I swear by all that’s holy, I’d better get enough sleep tonight, or someone’s gonna be real sorry.
party where even more alcohol was awaiting them.
I opened my door to inform them there were actually people trying to sleep at that hour, and could they please be quiet, but they never heard me over their loud singing and laughing. I wish I’d had a stun gun. That would have gotten someone’s attention. I went back to bed, but was never able to get back to sleep. I had on my ear buds listening to soft music, and not even that worked. I watched the clock periodically, disbelieving I was still awake. They kept going in and out of rooms. The slamming of doors wasn't exactly conducive to lulling me to sleep, either. Finally, at 5:30 a.m. they went to bed to sleep it off. Unfortunately for me, I had someplace to be this morning, and I had to get up.
I laid there until 7:30 hoping it was daylight savings and I could maybe squeeze out another hour to try to get some sleep. Barring that, I sat up and forced myself to a comatose, yet standing position and made it to the bathroom. I headed downstairs for some serious coffee to wake me up. I had on my best bitch face as I rolled up to the reception desk. Confidante was on duty. Fortunately, I was distracted from laying a tirade on him by a host of minor irritations, namely Squid. Getting nowhere with sympathy, I went upstairs to shower, and after groggily making sure my underwear was on right side out, I prepared to leave. On top of no sleep, a sour stomach and a headache, the morning was crowned by a bad hair day. Nothing I did to my hair was destined to help it behave. In my opinion, this was just wrong on multiple levels.
The day turned out to be completely non productive. I tried to take a nap for an hour and a half, but a phone call followed by a knock on the door fifteen minutes later, put the kabbosh on that. I had no energy to work, but I did make it to 5:00 Mass. I figured I needed all the help I could get. My car fortunately knows the way on its own. By the time I got home, all I wanted was a good meal and to get to bed to catch up on sleep. Apparently, I needed it too because in my semi-conscious state, I grabbed my Stein Mart card instead of my credit card, and after walking all the way to the restaurant, I only discovered my mistake as I was about to order. I walked all the way back to the hotel to
get the card. I failed to mention here, that it was so humid you could feel your hair curl, and God only knows what the temperature was. It was Hot. I went up to get my credit card, but forgot something else I needed and had to turn around and go back to my room.
If I thought things couldn’t get any more trying, that’s when God sicced Confidante on me in the parking deck. Here was another lesson I apparently failed to learn about handling things properly, and he was going to set me straight. Don’t come at me when my brain is a quart low. I didn’t complain to the front desk like the other four guests who called downstairs, because after the fact, there was nothing anyone could have done at that point to put me back to sleep short of anesthesia. Yes, next time I will call the front desk, shoot the bastards myself, or sleep in my car. But, right now, my brain is not absorbing much of what you’re saying.
I finally made it to the restaurant. Screw the fact it had begun to rain. By that point, you could have shot-putt cow patties at me, and I wouldn’t have cared. I brought home an order of spaghetti with mushrooms and meatballs with garlic bread. Normally, I can only eat half of one of their servings. Tonight, I ate the entire dinner, along with a glass and a half of red wine. I forgot to mention the two cookies. They knew I had a bad day, and volunteered themselves in sacrifice. So did my white slacks. All it took was one
stray attack of flying sauce.
The fact that I’m posting my blog speaks to my sorry mental state. I should be in my jammies by now because it’s after 10:30 p.m. I have no idea where my second wind came from, but I swear by all that’s holy, I’d better get enough sleep tonight, or someone’s gonna be real sorry.