Crazy Day

Days always seem crazier when you're tired. And I was tired today when I got off work. Although aren't I always tired? Seems that way. I got home and waited for a call from one of our financial coaches who didn't call and then left to go take a bunch of e-trash to Green Citizen, a green oriented recycling depository for e-trash and we had a bunch. Tons of VHS tapes, old music cassette tapes, 5.2 and 3.5 floppy disks, a dead portal foot heater, my old and up to the point Marty pulled out a VHS tape quite violently, trusty Marantz VCR I had for years, and an old laptop.

On my way down to Green Citizen, I stopped by Radio Shack to give my new VCR/DVD recorder over for repair as the VCR never worked on it. They reported it was a replacement plan only so I had to take the thing downtown with me. You don't leave stuff in your car downtown. But off I went, grumbling that nothing is easy.

But I think I took the wrong route to get down there, driving down O'Farrell and into the Financial District, the cesspool of hoity-toity commercialism with some asshole in a big truck behind me who seemed to deem it necessary to blow his horn right when the light turned green and I wasn't rocketing from my stopped position. I was sorely tempted to give him the finger but I refrained. Praise me.

Once I got down there, parking was, as usual for that area, a bitch. And the whole time driving, it felt like I was going to run over someone, hit something or someone was going to hit me. Traffic just seemed strange and people seemed weird. I got back in the car and had to wait about ten minutes to pull into the turn lane and paused to let a guy go by in the crosswalk and he stops in the middle of the street, in the crosswalk to glare at me as if I had actually hit him. I wonder what he thought, looking at me, with my face all pinched up from the driving anxiety I was having and my concern about being slight inside the crosswalk. I saw the dude, I was not going to hit him in anyway. Apparently he thought so and wanted to make it clear to me that he thought I was being an asshole. I looked him in the eye but barely acknowledged him. I know my brows were in my hair, I was so scrunched up as if I had hit him.

Finally I got home and was feeling irritable and bitchy. But at least I did get some errands done.