I had the worst day yesterday.

Sometime over the weekend, our hot water heater went out. Whatever, one cold shower won’t kill me, right? So bright & early Monday morning I call maintenance and they send someone over to look.

Turns out, the in this old, incredibly poorly designed apartment, is located in. My. Closet.

Ok….fine. I clear a path to it. My room is a disaster. Maintenance confirms it has to be replaced. Fine. I pile everything on my bed. Hey, going through my closet has been on my to-do list forever, right? He tells me I might have to move my bed, I tell him that’s not happening. See, my room has my regular bed, and then an old matters plus a futon mattress that takes up all the floor space. This serves as a giant dog/cat bed, and my 13-year-old dog needs a space for his old bones. The dude says that’s fine, they can cover it with plastic, and they will be back after lunch with a new heater.

10 minutes AFTER they were supposed to be back, my property manager calls and tells me they can’t replace the water heater because I’m refusing to move my bed. I lost my shit – told her that they said it was ok and that it’s bullshit she’s calling me now instead of an hour ago when I could have been working on this and hey this is my god damn work day too and I don’t have unlimited time to be fucking with this.

Whatever. It is what it is so I spend an hour sweating, swearing, cursing, throwing clothes in piles, re-organizing piles, and moving mattresses to fucking get this bed out of the way. My room is literally destroyed.

I am a pile of sweat & tears of frustration by the time the guys get there with the new water heater. They end up having to take my door off the hinges and tear my room up even more, but finally replace it.

It was supposed to be walk night with my brother but he didn’t say anything until I finally brought it up. At that point I felt like he didn’t want to go and I just sat on the couch and cried.

Finally I had to get up and feed my animals….and then I remembered I was out of sliced turkey (long story but I have to give my dog a few slices of turkey before each meal, tldr: he has stomach issues and it’s the only thing he will reliably eat, and I can’t let him go hungry.). I am still, at this point, a sweaty, emotional, stinky mess, but fuck it, people here are good about wearing masks so they hopefully won’t smell me.

I drive the store, it’s late in the evening at this point, and it doesn’t occur to me until I walk past the first display case of cake that I’m emotionally a mess and starving and this is not the ideal time to be around junk food. And I’m not going to lie, for a moment it sounded so wonderful, to just buy every cake, donut and piece of bread in that store and go to town. I knew it would make me feel so much better. I knew I’d feel happy.

I didn’t do it.

I did all of my grocery shopping and everything was exactly what was on my list. The closest I came to a deviation was the 2 liter of diet rootbeer I got because they were out of cans.

If nothing else it felt good to be strong.

Now, if I could just work up the motivation to go put my room back together.