You Win Some, You Lose Most

          We’ve all had rough mornings. We all – or at least most of us normal people – hate Mondays. We’ve all had days that just make us want to club a baby seal. I mean, of course we don’t. ‘Cause that’s pretty uncool. People who club baby seals – or seals in general – are people who should never see the light of day again. Or at least you can tell they’re people who've had a really, really bad day. This is my very own Monday from Hell. The struggle was finally real.

This image hits so close to home that I literally can't even.

          I went home for the night last night in order to make it to an early appointment this morning. But we’re not talking about Sunday. We’re talking about Monday. So let’s begin at midnight this morning, shall we? The bed in my room at home is a wee bit different from the one here at school. So the sleeping experience was, shall we say, less than pleasant.

Lose.

          Nevertheless, I woke up promptly to my alarm at 7:00AM so’s that I could make some chocolate chip cookies for some new friends who helped me move a couch into my room. I had a lovely cup of coffee and set to work.

Win.

          One of the three batches baked a tad too long, and they got a tad burnt.

Lose.

          I got all of my stuff together to go, loaded it up in the truck, gave my mom a big hug with a funny accent to get a hearty laugh, and hopped in the truck. I turned the key, and *click*. Huh. That wasn’t supposed to happen. *Click*. *Click*click*. I sat back, took a deep breath, and did a little diagnostics check in my mind. The radio was on, and the battery was relatively new, so it couldn’t be the connection or the battery itself. Which left - *click* - the starter.

Lose.

          Luckily, I drive a standard transmission, which means when push comes to shove (ha), the clutch can be popped and life goes on. I know how to pop clutches, so ultimately I wasn’t stalled for long. I stepped out of my truck, met my mother’s worried eyes, and looked around. I was nowhere near a hill. In fact, I was at the bottom of a few small hills. A valley if you will. Which meant if I was to leave the house at all, the truck was to be pushed uphill. Against gravity. In the dewy grass. In the already-unbelievably-thick Kansas air.

Lose.

          Oh yeah, and I’m still recovering from a torn MCL, which at times is a very painful knee injury.

Lose.

          Still fairly optimistic – oh, how naïve I was – I hopped out, pushed the truck with whatever sleep-lacking, knee-deficient strength I had toward the hill behind me. I made it an embarrassing 10-12 feet up the 50-60 foot hill and let it roll back down, jumping in and popping the clutch as it did so. It didn’t work.

Lose.

          Mom readily jumped in to aid me. With the two of us, we made it a relatively impressive 12-14 feet.

Lose.

          I texted Dad to see if the farm truck was running. The truck worked, so I drove it around, hooked up the chain, and tugged it up to the top. My truck rolled down, the clutch popped, and it didn’t work.

Lose.

          Luckily, I had enough hill left for a second try. My baby took a gasping breath and roared to life.

Win.

          At this point, I gave my mother another hug, apologized for being somewhat short-tempered, and plopped down in my truck. I was bathing in my own sweat. Gross, I know, but it’s important that you feel the sheer suckiness.

Lose (for both you and me).

          At this point, it was 9:38AM. My appointment was scheduled for 9:40AM. The office is 40 minutes away from my house. A little mental math, aaaaaaannndd…..

Lose.

          I called the orthodontist and asked them to remove me from the schedule. Again. I’m already two weeks overdue on my checkups, and I probably won’t get to go back again for another week or two at least. So in other words, I haven’t gotten a pretty important check up done and over with in over two months.

Lose.

          The road to Emporia was pretty uneventful. I managed stay awawke. Of course, I didn’t really have much of a choice thanks to the lack of air conditioning in my truck. Both of my windows were down. 75+mph.

Win/Lose, it doesn’t matter at this point, right? The truck disaster has been averted (for now), and I’ll be in plenty of time for my classes.

The End.

          

          Yeeeeeaaaahh, that’s what I thought, too. Until I had to take my ID picture for my newly issued student ID.

Lose. Lose lose lose. In every sense of the word. So much so, in fact, that as soon as my friend Teresa, who is sitting here watching me type this saw what I wrote, she immediately spun around in her chair, snagged my atrocity of a headshot, and laughed pitifully.

A 90-year old career meth-head is the most apt description, I would say.

Lose.

          I finally got to go to the theater rally and see all of my theater peepsk;ngsbeji;ofw

Lose.

*all of my theater peeps (Holla if You Hear Me (a 2Pac Musical (that closed very shortly after opening (look it up)))). Good times were had by all. And we did the Waka Waka dance.

Win.

          But I had to leave a little early for our RA staff meeting.

Lose.

          The conference room had a wall with all of the RAs and their strengths. Guess whose name didn’t have any strengths listed.

One of these things, not like the others, you know the drill.

Lose.

          There was a long black hair on my head. I haven’t had any interaction with a dark-haired female friend today.

Lose.

          Teresa and Courtney drew on my head with dry erase marker.

Lose.

          I now know that dry erase markers wipe off of my bald scalp.

Win?

          I just discovered that all of my nails have been filthy since this morning, and Teresa put a crinkly light brown hair on my head with the justification of, “Well, you were complaining about a black hair, so I put a light brown one on your head.” It’s been there for a solid half hour.

Lose.

          Oh yeah, remember that filth I rode to school in, baking in my non-starting oven on wheels? Yeah, I’m still wearing those clothes. I stink. I haven’t had a chance to change since I got back.

          Oh. And I’m dehydrated. And Paige took half of my remaining six cookies.

Lose.

          I’m watching Guy Ritchie’s Snatch.

…

         

          Anywho, you win some, and you lose the rest. And all pity parties - no matter how justified - aside, you have to remember the important things in life: funny accents that make your mom laugh, chocolate chip cookies, and Guy Ritchie.