Epic Tuesday

So, I took an energy booster last night to get me through my workout. Bad idea. I almost yakked. It was so stinking hot in that godforsaken gym, I thought I was going to die. THEN, I felt nauseated the rest of the night. I almost barfed up my oh so exciting dinner of spaghetti noodles with olive oil and parmesan cheese. I wanted to do laundry last night, and looked ALLLLL over the house for freakin quarters, and there were NONE to be found. Fuck laundry. Whatever. I finally got to bed at, like, 11:30 pm (waaaaaaaaaaaay past my bedtime) and woke up at 1, 2, 3, 4...UGH. When I did sleep, it was fitful, and I probably sweated my own bodyweight 3 times over. So I'm exhausted. This morning I walk out to let the dog out of the kitchen, and lo and behold, there are the quarters, ON the kitchen table, RIGHT in front of my face. Last night, I would have sworn on my life there were none. Then, I was packing my bag for the gym, and I just bought some new shorts I wanted to wear, and I can not find them ANYWHERE. AT ALL. And the part that pisses me off the most is that I KNOW its like the quarters: they are probably RIGHT in front of my face, and I can't find them. And because D isn't here to point them out, they might as well not exist. The dog wouldn't crap on his walk (fucker), and the cat wouldn't shut up (meowmeowmeow). The clothes I want to wear are dirty (thanks to the vanishing quarters), its roughly 68432187 degrees with humidity near 10,000% (welcome to hell). Get to the gym, work out, take a shower, get breakfast, go to work. First thing is a shitty email from my boss telling me that I did some god-awful spreadsheet wrong (maybe she should have given us instructions when she assigned it), and I need to re-do it. She then proceeds to guilt us, her team, for her being at work at 9:30 pm. Bitch, please. Maybe if you got to work ON TIME you wouldn't have to STAY LATE. Novel concept, I know, but it works for most the free world. The cherry on top was when the fat chick who sits behind me made some comment to the affect of "Did I get any packages or phone calls yesterday"? I wheeled around and was like "What am I, your secretary?" and she has the gall to say "EX-CUUUUUUSE me? How many times have I signed for your stuff?" Once. I didn't ask you to, don't play the martyr.