"It's Raining It's Pouring, the Old Man Is Snoring..."

Tropical Storm Gustav is rearing it's ugly head even here in this wonderful metropolis smack dab in the middle of America's heartland... and I couldn't be more disgruntled. Sure, there are no street signs blowing in the wind, or flash floods depriving hard-working folks of their homes and businesses, but I've gotten used to the ominous lack of rain and dammit, I don't like this sudden catapult into unfriendly weather. Especially on the day of an interview. "Hi, my name is 'pissed because I just rained on'. I'm here for an interview." It set the perfect tone for what was sure to be an awesome day. I wasted 10 dollars on a cab I couldn't afford to be 30 minutes early and didn't even get interviewed until 15 minutes after my scheduled time. Because, well, this is how fate treats me. And I can't say that I've ever liked that bitch too much. Then, of course, part of the interview process was a tour of the floor which was, to say the least, the LONGEST tour of ANYTHING. EVER. And I just happened to be wearing 3 and a half inch heels. Were it not for shame I would've just said "fuck it" and put my flip-flops on. Damn you, obligations of positive 1st impressions. On the bus ride home, standing in my heels on the slippery floor packed with the rest of the evening commuters like sardines, I took a moment to reflect on the poor effect the weather has had not only on my day, but on my mood as well. Why is it that rain always tends to make me feel like shit? No seriously, you have to be out in the crap, you get all wet and cold, (oh, that's why) and you think to yourself, if mother nature were a person, you would plant no less that 50 strategically placed pipe bombs around her house, car and place of work in the hopes that, in the words of Stewie Griffin her "uppance will come." Also, I must admit a slight headache no doubt brought on by the loud-mouthed high-schoolers I had to endure the entire ride, not to mention the screaming baby who, despite the fruitless efforts of both mother and father to soothe him, continued to torment us all with high, piteous screams of obvious despair. My maternal instincts were not very forgiving given that I was dealing with wet pant legs, a rising headache, and I was REALLY fucking hungry. This is what happens when you try to have a good day. You don't. You fucking don't. And of course, this has to be the first below 70-degree daytime temp we've had in about 2 months, and it has to happen when I'm outside. Then of course, I get in the house, and have left the windows open, allowing mother nature and her inconsiderate wrath to rain all over my new leather shoes. I was a little more than livid. Now imagine if they had been the blue suede ones. But seriously I couldn't get a break today. Someone rushed and stole the seat on the bus I was quite obviously eyeing from the moment I stepped on, then when I finally did get one, I unknowingly sat next to the mumbles-to-himself-and-twitches-guy, whose quirks I had to endure because thanks to the generous tour of the floor, my feet were threatening to detach and set off to find a human that didn't treat them so poorly. This was one of those days where I could be found mouthing the words "I hate Murphy and his accursed law" over and over again like a homicidal mantra. Sometimes I think perhaps irony follows me. And other times, like today, I think fate just REALLY likes to fuck with me. Ain't that a bitch?