Cue John Goodman: "I was having SUCH a good day!"

This morning a coworker said to me she had a bad feeling about today, and I was in such a happy place I couldn't make myself very empathetic. Last night, I talked to my best friend. Today, I was in a good mood. Getting a job I hadn't been looking forward to done turned out to be not bad at all.

Then we discovered that a job already done was not done properly - and: 100% my fault, that.

I gave the manager "a moment" as she put it, but the good news was that the mistake was more in the way of overdoing a generality than actually causing a catastrophe, so she picked herself up from the reaction, and ended up being able to deliver the snafu almost as an aside in a brief update reporting to managers on project status. I thought her doing that was (a) very kind to me, particularly as The Error was not attributed, and (b) probably smart, too, as there's nothing like a good wigging to cause wigging contagion in others. She even called to apologize for her "grumpiness" - which, no, she wasn't at all grumpy with me, and two, I had made a very clear error, one I should not have made at all. The instructions had been clear, and I squiffed them on being distracted by a detail. We're very lucky the job itself wasn't a more substantial one, information-wise.


Then, on the way home, at that STEEP curve from one major road onto another, the woman in front of me accelerated, so I took my look at traffic behind me, began to take off - and discovered she had stopped again. Damn it. And she was on the phone, but - I was the following car, so of course there's the sick feeling I'm going to be the responsible party.

The officer who came to the scene provided no charges, so that's nice, and no court date. But the way things took their turn today, I just feel queasy, and alone, and simply unable to breathe at all right now.

Then the dog contorted her way out of her harness - but that was a short escape. She's not as headstrong as she was when she was four, AND she also knows I'm no fun when it comes to trying to get me to chase her, so the worst of that deal was having to carry her (yelping as if I were breaking her legs, so that didn't last but a few yards) and then just become a human leash/harness/collar to her across the backyard and back inside. There was a time she would have fought me bloody, AND worked her butt off to escape and run like the very-dumb-about-four-lane-highways-and-rush-hour-traffic wind, but today it's still well over 90, and being put inside wasn't entirely to her disliking.

Still.

I'm left with that hideous, acidic backwash after the adrenaline subsides, and I feel every scintilla of the worst of what I hate about Being Alone in this world right now. I already bugged my best friend last night, and she just came through a crisis, so I cannot call her and whine to make me feel better. X is out of pocket, and I just can't think of anyone I'd be happy to dump any self-indulgence on at this point in my day.

I haven't called my insurance agent, and don't want to, and I haven't even picked up whatever the message is in my voicemail, though in all likelihood it's just my neighbor reminding me I have a haircut with her tomorrow.

I feel *bleah* and there's nowhere to pour that out.

Oh, hey look - a blog. Perfect container. *Glub-blub-glub*