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Tomorrow will have to try very hard to be worse than today

Bad day. Baaaad day. Like, aggressively bad.

I wan to than YOU GUIZE for the grouphuggy support earlier today on my why-am-I-a-fuck-up, and I mean it. It's good to hear that I'm not alone in being messed up.

Guess what? The universe had more "Hey, you're still a fuck-up" to throw at me. Here's what happened.


We've had a lot of luck with Craigslist, and I don't mean getting lucky, I mean getting furniture. There are indeed 4 pieces of furniture that I can see without getting up that were purchased through Craigslist, and I've come to expect a sort of minimal standard of decency from sellers. Like, when I text someone about a super cheap bunk bed, and they say someone's supposed to be coming but you'll be next in line, and you text back on Monday saying, guess what: you can get it, and you say you'll be home after 7 and I say, great I'll see you there, and I drive AN HOUR AND A FUCKING HALF with my MIL who I love, but who is incredibly annoying to drive with, and I miss my exit, get my bearings again, circle around to find an ATM, and find your shitty, shitty apartment in a kind of dodgy apartment complex (not judging; I got a nice futon from the dodgiest of all dodgy complexes, but that's a different, actually kind of heartwarming story), and I knock on the door and say, I'm here for the bunk bed: the correct thing to say is NOT "It's already sold." No text. No fucking contact at all. Oh, your phone got turned off? I guess you really could have used that FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS that I was happy to pay for what I'm sure was a shitty bunk bed (these grapes: why are they so sour?). Oh, and fuck you Dallas and your freeways and them being closed so that I'm pushing through stop traffic (stop-and-go would be too optimistic a description). And since you asked, great. It feels great to have gotten that off my chest.

So what should I have done? What will I do next time I'm getting furniture from the List of Craig? For starters, I won't drive anywhere to get something — not even next door — until I speak with an actual person at the time I am leaving. And that part of Dallas can just get sucked into hell, where I'm sure the traffic would be much lighter.

I'm glad I don't have any booze right now because I would like nothing better than to drink myself into a stupor while hatewatching the Lucasized version of Return of the Jedi.

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