WATCH OUT FOR MY CHEERY DISPOSITION

Well, if today doesn't beat all, I don't know what the hell will.

It starts out sub-zero.  I'm not even kidding; the news people are calling this a "polar vortex."  My car windows are completely iced shut, so the quick stop to the post office to mail out some bills turns into an episode of Keystone Kops as I try to find a way to get the envelopes into the drive-by mailbox.  I finally give up, get out, and walk through the damn polar vortex of a parking lot to mail them. 

I have to text youngest in the middle of teaching a class to make sure he gets up for his dentist appointment.  He does, but the dentist notices he has two early cavities that need attention.  Doc claims son needs to gargle with $22 mouthwash for a few weeks and come back, and the bitch at the front desk makes an appointment for February.  Son explains he will be away at college in February, to which the royal bitch screams to everyone in the office and to the offices that adjoin them, "He can't come back for FOUR MONTHS!!!!"  Guess what, bitch?  I'm going to change dentists.  Since the nice receptionist left and the non-masochistic hygenist left, I don't know why we come to this freak show of an office anymore, anyway.  Guess what, son?  Those cavities better not get any worse during lacrosse season.

During another class the vice principal walks in with the head janitor, who is carrying with him a carbon monoxide detector.  The go from my room to the room next door.  Frowns are exchanged, and within ten minutes my entire side of the building is being evacuated to the gym while doors, windows, and fans bring the polar vortex right into the school with us.  Figures.  It's the first damn day I've actually had heat in my room that lasts more than the first hour of the day.  Sure, not only is my heater working, it's trying to frigging kill me.

On the way home I stop at CVS to pick up son's RX for the $22 dental rinse he supposedly needs before they will supposedly fill these early cavities he allegedly has in his mouth.  He dropped the RX off at 11:00 a.m.  I am at the pharmacy at 3:00 p.m.  The pharmacist tells me it's not ready yet.  Not ready yet?  Sweetie, you've had four flipping hours to take an already-mixed solution off the shelf and slap a label on it.  What in the hell is wrong with you people?

I decide to file my first shot in my thesis.  Yes, my thesis.  At my age the only thesis I should be looking at is a misspelling of these.  Sending the paper off isn't the issue.  The issue is that I am working with a newer version of Microsoft Office, and it totally sucks eggs.  It blows chunks.  It is the most un-user-freindly program I've ever encountered, and, considering how techno-dumb I am, that's really saying something!  I finally manage to create pages, fix the header and footer, and save it, and attach it as a file on the fifteenth attempt.  I hit send and start praying my ass off.

Then someone has the nerve to tell me that a man who drinks fifteen or more alcohol drinks per week is considered an alcoholic.  For women, then number is seven drinks per week; that is the true tally of determining whether or not we are alcoholics.  I don't know about you and your friends, but for me and my friends, this pretty much means we've been drunkards since junior high school.

So please excuse my pissiness.  Between the iced-shut car windows,the idiot dentist with his shrewish receptionist, the heating system at work trying to take me out, the ineptitude of the CVS pharmacy, Microsoft Office, and being a damn sot, I'm not really in the mood to be cheery and retain my typical star-dust-sprinkled attitude.

Or maybe it's just me being my usual self.  Sometimes it's really hard to tell the difference.