Do you ever have one of those days where you just can’t seem to get things right? And you’re determined to have a good day, but you keep doing little things wrong, and they keep piling up, and it’s like the universe just looked at you and said: not today, bitch.
Today was one of those days.
I’m not going to go into everything that went wrong today, mostly because that would take too long, so I’ll just tell you about all the stuff I did wrong.
My mom and I were downtown at the hairdresser’s, and while I waited for her to finish up, she asked me to walk down to the sandwich shop to pick us up some lunch. It was during the hottest part of the day and I wasn’t exactly dressed for it—I was wearing flip-flops and I had run out of shorts, so I was in black jeans—but I figured since it was only ten minutes away, I would be all right. I had been there before, and I was pretty sure I knew where it was, so I started walking. Five blocks later, I still hadn’t stumbled across it, so I pulled out my phone/GPS to sort out where, exactly, this shop was. Turns out, I had been walking in the wrong direction all this time. It doubled my walking time, but I was determined not to let it phase me.
Cut to after dinner, when my mom and brother started parading around the house, searching for Ian’s lost phone. They’d been searching for a solid twenty minutes, growing increasingly frustrated, and had started searching for it in less and less probable places. Ian had gone upstairs to look for it, and I followed him to the laundry room, where I had a finished load in the washer. He started going through the dirty laundry, checking his pockets to make sure it wasn’t there.
Me: Crap. Did I…?
Me: No, never mind. I was afraid I might have put it through the wash, but I checked all your pockets.
He didn’t find his phone, so left the room to search for it elsewhere, leaving me free to finish the laundry. I pulled some clothes out, and I heard something metal scrape against the washer.
Me: Oh, no. No, no, no, please, no.
I removed most of the clothes, and there, buried in the back underneath some socks, was Ian’s phone.
I picked it up and put the battery back in, and it turned on! The screen was water-damaged and glowed rather strangely, but hey, it turned on, and that was half the battle.
Of course, Mom and Ian were still shouting back and forth as they looked for it, so I made my way downstairs, sporting what one of my friends has dubbed my “creepy (read: nervous) smile.” I explained the situation to them, and they found it very funny (which was good), and immediately jumped to put the story on various social-media type sites (which was less good). Ian ended up making a youtube video about it, because there’s nothing like immortalizing your mistakes and putting them on the internet for everyone to enjoy. Or laugh at. Something like that.
I have no idea what I'm doing.