Today was "back to work" day from the holidays, and apparently something over the vacation killed my fucking brain cells, because I started the morning all, where the hell am I? and where the hell am I going? and what the hell am I supposed to do when I get there? It was rough, yo. And it started when the alarm clock rang, because my alarm clock is an asshole. Then I realized WHY it was ringing, and the fact that it was, as I am now affectionately referring to it, "get-your-fucking-ass-up-because-you-have-to-go-to-work-because-you-can't-be-on-vacation-forever-because-you-need-fucking-health-insurance-and-fucking-money-because-you-can't-buy-shit-with-jars-of-sunshine-and-skittles-because-that's-how-society-fails" Monday. And Monday's are assholes. Just like alarm clocks. It's like they naturally go together. Because they're assholes.
So when I got to work, I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes and stared blankly at my steering wheel because I'd apparently forgotten how to human, and had managed to drive and park by muscle memory alone. Because my muscles want to see me fucking succeed. Not like my alarm clock. That bitch wants to kill me. With sleep deprivation. Because it's an asshole that wants to sing me the song of its people at the fucking ass-crack of dawn. And as it sings, I whisper, I don't care about your song. You. Will. Die.
And then the emails started. And the phone calls. And I was all, the fuck, dude? And just when I thought I was going to have to hide in the bathroom because I couldn't figure out what the hell I was supposed to be doing, my brain finally showed up like a fucking douchebag arriving 2 hours late for their own party. And I was like, nice timing, bitch. And my brain was all, how'd you like that drive this morning?