Here's a summation of my day yesterday:
Headache from Sunday night continues. Dizziness and the inability to distinguish depth makes for fun interstate drive to work.
Lunchtime run to Bob Evans for "comfort food" ends in a $20 meal of dirty (no, really, I could wipe the visible dirt from the lettuce on to my finger) salad and hard pasta.
Tanning bed (yeah, I know "BAD Holly! BAD!") room where I trip on pants around ankles and fall headfirst into a fake and rather dusty palm tree.
Dinner, parent's house, back porch. Not being in the mood for more pasta after my horrible day, I sit and watch my sis, mom, dad, Brian, Connie and Lauren eat a nice dinner. And then we all get attacked my rambunctious squirrels who pelt us with nuts from the trees above. Repeatedly.
My gas light comes on. I drive, slowly and without my air conditioning on, to the nearest gas station. I fear my car will e-mail my hubby and tell on me.
I try to watch my episode of taped "Veronica Mars" only to find the dreaded blue screen of death awaits me. I get out of bed, smack the vcr around a bit and jiggle the cords. My hair was wet from my late night shower and - I got shocked, totally explaining the frizz that greeted me when I woke up (late) this morning and had no choice but to go with a very 1994 side braid. I called and woke Harry up to complain about stupid incooperative vcr. (On a weird note - it works fine this morning.)
And now I'm at work having survived a bad day on near-Apocolyptic proportions.
My only fear is what lies in store for me today.
I need stamps. So I must go to the post office. Let's hope my bad luck ended with the at-home-electro-shock-therapy...