They get worse when you burn your toast and worse still when you spill coffee on your pants in the car because some complete idiot did not signal until the last possible minute and you were already in that lane, dammit! And who does he think he is anyway!
Those days progress into terrible territory when you come in to work and your boss yells at you for missing an appointment yesterday. Even though what he asked you to do on Monday did not actually even enter into your job description and the other paper got the picture and will publish it before us anyway and it was a stupid high school pyjama day so who bloody-well cares anyway? And as he mentions that you need "some sort of system, but (he) can't make the system for you, Tanis," you feel like screaming "Then hire a photographer who's trained in such systems! I'm overloaded! I'm doing the work of five people! If I miss a frelling pyjama day on the layout day of the paper because I was bogged down with 14* other pictures you begged me to get, then let me again suggest that you hire. a. photographer."
But you don't say those things. You bottle them up inside for the day when you can no longer take the stupid paper and have found a better job in a better city with better pay and can point at your boss and say "Remember when you made me feel bad for missing one, stupid picture when I had gone above and beyond the call of duty that week in attending stupid craft shows and bake sales and taking other stupid pictures? Remember? Do you??? I QUIT! HA!"
But I digress. I really, really do.
Those days get even worse when you realize your hot chocolate tastes like water and there's a fire drill in the office building and your car won't start and the sink won't drain and there's a bird in the dryer and your health card hasn't arrived and you're feeling sick and you have a big zit and you think you can go see Sweet Home Alabama, but you can't because you only have 6 dollars to your name and you're so sleepy and you just want to go to bed with your wheat bag, dammit.
Yeah. One of those days.
*Actual number of pictures I took for the paper this weekend. All for seperate stories.
I'm reading: Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Both for the third or fourth time.
I'm watching: Survivor. The boringest Survivor yet. This Survivor makes Big Brother look interesting. Yeah. It's that bad.
I'm drinking: watery hot chocolate.
I'm loving: My wheat bag.
