shit happens

yes it does. bad days happen. yes, they do. last night i broke three glasses and tried very hard to break a third, at which point, had i been successful, someone likely would have been severely injured.

today is a good day. i slept until two. put on sweat pants. had grilled cheese. drank a few cups of tea. wrote this post until half three. yesterday was not a good day

somehow, last night, being told that shit happens didn't make me feel better. so i had half a cigarette.

boy, was that ever dumb. this morning i feel as though a porcupine has taken up residence in my throat, two accountants on adding machines are pounding away in my head and all the while Gord Downie is flailing away on stage, kicking over his mic stand doing a classic freak out except instead of a stage it is my stomach. not to mention the memory of the guilt i felt gripping the fag as it burned a hole in my soul the previous night.

but let us start at the beginning. yesterday i worked twelve hours. this was unbeknown'st to me until i calculated it at the end of the night. had i have known that i may have been able to pin point the cause of my angst and work towards a more rational solution. but i didn't and i did what i did because at this point doing anything is entirely impossible.

i broke the first glass taking it off a shelf. i broke the second rounding the inside bar. i nearly broke the third using a wall mounted pourer; the glass fell behind a lower row of pourers and stayed there as i closed my eyes and collected my thoughts and calmed the beast that was about to guide the head of the person who just told me that shit happens through the wall on which was mounted the shot pourer that was at this moment the bane of my existence. having sorted myself out i completed the list of drinks that my american friends had ordered, smiled politely, and died inside.

after last orders the barmen all went outside. it knocked the socks off colin the scot when i asked for one. it is curious how smokers react when someone who doesn't smoke asks for one, like there is pride in getting a new recruit. i had three or four drags over the course of ten minutes and quietly tossed it away. the beast had been neutralized, but not by nicotine. all that was needed was minutes away from demanding stares and week long drink orders.

not to mention i would have enjoyed my break a lot more without listen to my fathers voice in my head telling me how terribly bad this was and how terribly stupid i looked right now.