The days are noticeably shorter lately, and will get even shorter still this weekend with the return of standard time. This decrease in daylight corresponds directly to an increase in my being annoyed. Let's take today, for example.
- It's raining, which means every driver in the greater metropolitan area drank a great big glass of stupid juice for breakfast, turning my commute into a two-hour jaunt through the fifth circle of Hell.
- My windshield wipers don't wipe, they smear.
- I neglected to eyeball the toilet seat in the women's restroom, with predictable dampening.
- Microshaft Word insists on continuously numbering the numbered lists in the user guide I'm writing, despite the fact that the style specifies that each list should start at 1. Every time I fix it, and save after every fix, and save and save and save, it still reverts to continuous numbering. I believe that this is because Word, like Skynet, has become self-aware and is evil.
- There are no more pink Starburst in the group candy jar.
- Neither are there Hershey bars in the candy machine.
- While I am enamored of the Asian salad that's available at My New Starbucks, the adorable black and white sesame seeds with which it is generously sprinkled tend to leap out of the container and scatter themselves recklessly over my shirt and lap.
- My bangs are still too goddamn long, even though I told my new stylist to cut them above my eyebrows. (I seem to be the Typhoid Mary of this salon -- every stylist I've had there has either changed careers or locations.)
- My socks were just a tiny bit too thick for my shoes.
- The Caps cannot seem to score on the power play. C'mon, boys, c'mon!
But I don't have horrendous fires licking at my heels, and Joe came downstairs shirtless to meet me this evening, and we had clam chowder for dinner, and David Steckel just scored his first professional goal.
Maybe I'm not quite as annoyed as I thought I was.