One of those days.

Some days it takes a lot of effort to do the things that I am supposed to do. I like what I do, the floating thing, but some days it's hard to drag my happy ass out of bed, hose off, throw clothes on and go to work. Some days it's hard to battle the Beaverton traffic and fake cheerfulness with that girl that knows my order at the Dutch Bros. Some days it's hard to take that crazy left coming out of the Dutch Bros and deal with all the speed bumps and stop signs in the parking lot at Lincoln Tower.

Some days it's hard to sit at a new desk, try to figure out what the heck is going on on it, and start from pretty much zero. Some days it's hard not to snap at the receptionist for no real reason except it's Monday and I don't feel like working. Some days it's hard to tell people where I've been and what's going on outside of the office I'm stationed in. Some days it's hard to tell people I really didn't have that exciting of a weekend. Some days it's hard to be friendly and outgoing to customers on the phone, especially when you have never spoken to them before and probably never will again but you act like you know everything they are talking about and, worse yet, like you care. Some days it's hard to care.

Some days it's hard to think about what to have for lunch. Somedays it's hard to not feel like a heel when you shut down at 5pm and other people have no intention of leaving until much later.

Some days it's hard to battle the left turn out of Lincoln Tower on to Greenburg Road from the outside lane when you know that bastard opposite you waiting to turn RIGHT on to Greenburg Road is going to cut you off because they always try. Sometimes it's hard to not give them the finger, and hope that the sneer-riddled stink eye you are giving them as you drive STRAIGHT AT THEM to make them get the point gets through to them and they back the hell off. Some days it's hard to have to ride their asses as close as possible when they DON'T back off until they finally get scared and change lanes.

Some days it's hard to go to the mailbox, get all the bullshit that is in there and immediately throw it in the garbage because all your bills come on line and there really isn't much point to going to the mailbox beyond knowing the mailman sooner or later is going to get mad at you and take all your stupid flyers and catalogs from the 18 people that lived there before you and put it on your front stoop. Some days it's hard to battle opening up the door and hoping that the kittens aren't super aggressive to try to get out.

Some days it's hard to think about what to have for dinner because as usual you forgot to put out fish to thaw the night before. Some days it's hard to wait for "How I Met Your Mother" to come on because it seems like the evening is just dragging on and on when you can't chat with your friend anymore. Some days it's hard to sit down to blog and have Secadora meow and meow and MEOW until you turn the fuck around and pet her so she gets her fix and shuts up.

Some days it's hard to go take your make up off and put the ghetto fried rice you made for dinner in Gladware and pretend you are going to bring it to work tomorrow for lunch.

Some days it's hard to not go to bed at 9pm because what the hell else are you going to do, you know you are never going to finish that God damned fourth vampire book, if you were into it you would have by now, and you don't like "Two and a Half Men", or virtually any show that is on after it, because you know that no matter what they have scheduled after it is going to be stupid since the only good sitcom on TV is "How I Met Your Mother" and it's already over for the week.

Some days you just decide to go to bed at 9pm, screw it, your Egyptian cotton sheets are the greatest sheets you have ever slept on and you know you will sleep like a rock.

Today was one of those days.