Friday the 13th

This morning got off to a rough, rough start. My intention was to get up early, stretch my back out, make some breakfast and lunch, and drive to work. I wanted to get there early–as I’ve wanted to all week and have only accomplished once–and start in on my tasks to get most of next week finished.

Well, of course that’s not what happened.

I just want to make a point of my morning. I think people could use a little laugh, anyway.

My alarm was set for 6:07am. I rolled out of bed at 6:27am. I changed pretty quickly, fixed a couple spots in my hair, washed my face and brushed my teeth. 6:52am. Cool. I went downstairs, carrying my hula hoop and CD rack. Yes, I still have CDs. Lots of them. And CD cases like crazy. I briefly considered recycling all of my said CD and DVD cases before my move, but I am just going to have to weigh those options after my move. I’m not ready to get rid of those photos/sleeves/memories.

I put the hula hoop and CD rack in the back of the Pilot with my other boxes that I’m taking to the new place this morning. Then I went back into the kitchen to make lunch real quick. While I was making my spiced chicken and mustard sandwich on oat bread, I realized that a sausage biscuit and fruit and yogurt parfait from McDonald’s sounded amazing. I wasn’t going to have time to make a real breakfast anyway, so why not?

As I was putting my sandwich in a Ziploc bag (brand plug!), I realized that I am a Catholic. It was this crazy realization, since I went to Catholic schools my entire life and I have gone to church regularly and observed the sacraments. It was just like *lightbulb*! I’m Catholic. It’s Friday. During Lent.

No meat for me.

At this point, I’m freaking out. I open the pantry. Every soup has meat. I don’t have the butter and milk to take to work to make mac and cheese. I can’t eat another Nutty Bar (brand plug!) as a meal. I need my protein for my move. Oh, did I mention I’m moving this weekend? Just so many thoughts. I run to the computer to see if there are any non-meat options on McDonald’s breakfast menu. Doesn’t look like it. Spazz out. Go back to pantry. And then I see the cans of tuna. Tuna sandwich. I can handle that. Never made it before, but the consistency shouldn’t be too difficult to master.

I grab the can opener and go for the tuna. It doesn’t open the first go-around. So, I go around again. Second time, I’m convinced it’s open. I have issues with this can opener frequently. Could be me. Could be the can opener. Whatever. We have a love/hate relationship. I go to grab the lip of the can, and I cut my flippin’ finger.

Now, it’s not a big cut. It’s a tiny prick. But that thing just started GUSHING blood. So that’s cool.

My dad is coming downstairs to get ready to leave at this point and he just looks at me. I’m like, “I cut myself. I just realized we are Catholic and I’m bleeding.” The man is confused, and understandably so. So he tells me to give him the can–lifesaver!–after he pulls a Band Aid out for me (brand plug!).

I make the tuna mixture–too runny, of course–and complete the sandwich. The whole time, I’m telling my dad I have no time to go get McDonald’s. He laughs and tells me to go. I run to the car, get in, and drive to McD’s. Not busy. Took me about 3 minutes, tops. As I was going through the drive-thru, I was texting my coworker about life (and my AWESOME Beauty & The Beast tank top I am wearing!). I had decided on an egg and cheese biscuit, which was listed under the $1 menu for $2.79. I don’t get it, but why not? Well, in my spazzoid moment I accidentally said “muffin”. Ew. Whoops.

Pull forward, get food. Sad. Get to work in an OK amount of time, but smell meat. Was going crazy, clearly. Because you always want what you can’t have, right?

As I drive to work, I realize I have set my appointment to pick up my apartment keys for 10am and we have a meeting at 9am. I ask Kate how long it’s set for, and she says until 10. So now I have to call my landlord and push the meeting. When I got to work, there were two giant delivery looking trucks parked all wonky in our lot–right in my normal spot. The Pilot is a huge car, so I can’t just park it anywhere. So I awkwardly had to pull a U-turn in the lot and correct my parking a couple of times to get into a spot where they wouldn’t hit me when they left. The drivers were laughing at me. I was not amused.

Get to work. Regale my coworkers with my nuttiness. Call my landlord. Push the meeting to 11am. Calm down. That 9am meeting? Lasted until 9:30. That never happens. So cool. 

It’s 10:36am. I just re-heated my breakfast sandwich to eat it. Not only is it a McMuffin (ew! brand plug!), but it has ham on it. So I awkwardly had to offer up my cold ham to a coworker. She was awesome about it. I was not.

All of this craziness happened BECAUSE I AM CATHOLIC. And also probably because it’s Friday the 13th. Which is my dad’s lucky day, so hopefully it gets better from here. Like the fish from the fish fry is phenomenal or something.

Right?

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