"Some days, it doesn't pay to get out of bed." I've heard this said countless times in my life. Today, I'm living it.
Exhibit A: This is the sight that greeted me in P-town this morning, on the 24th day of May, 2010.
That's right. Three inches of snow at my house. What the? Should have walked right back into my house, marched up to my bed, and climbed back in.
Exhibit B: At 11:51 AM, I received an email that began like this:
Your application has been reviewed. Unfortunately..."
Need I go on? Remember my snooty post a while back about formalities? Here we go again. Thanks for wasting my time again, Y.
Exhibit C: (no pic available) Today, I'm fighting with Comcast. They're doing a digital conversion next month, which is great and all, except they forgot to tell any of us what in the free world to do to prep for it. Sure, they emailed me two months ago, but have they done anything since? Nope. Then, on Saturday, the creepy warnings of TV death scrolled across the bottom of my screen. Whatev. I slammed the chat-room door in my virtual Comcast analyst's face about a minute ago. Completely unhelpful. Seriously. Maybe I should put Kate on the case...
So, here I sit, at 12:36 PM, comatose in my cubie. Revving up the neurons needed to turn the page on the DU paper today, I see this...
This kid, 13 years old, climbed Everest. Really? I'm pretty sure I was barely surviving simple conversations with boys, having finally mastered the urge to wear only full-on sweatsuits to school, and memorizing a list of prepositions for Austin's English class. Not climbing the highest peaks of the world. That's it. Where's my bed?