Had a generally shitty weekend.

It started off okay with a pretty good play on Friday night, and digressed from there.

I was really looking forward to getting an estimate on some work that I planned to get done on my house. The bastard, who was a referral from a person who always gives him work, apparently decided not to show up or call. I called him about 3 times, sent him a text message, and by the time I realized that he had ruined my day, I left him a terse voice message indicating my displeasure at his rudeness, and ended with the supposition that he didn’t want the job. The nerve.

I also had a very difficult exchange with a person that I care deeply for on Saturday/Sunday. It embodied what I despise about being adult – having to make hard decisions and having to have difficult conversations. Not a great time, but I’ll get through it . . . I guess . . . or not.

Then , let’s discuss the goddamned Marathon, shall we? It seemed to be complete and utter mayhem from a weather/logisitics perspective, and unfortunately proved to be a fatal event for at least one person.

The rule of thumb, race planners, is that regardless of the temperature, people who are physically exerting themselves to the extreme ALWAYS need mass quantities of water.

I have another gripe (as usual) . . . would it be too much to ask for the planners to produce this annual event without totally debilitating the city and its traffic passageways????

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have road rage issues. I’m screaming, honking, flashing my brights, liberally showing my middle finger to anyone who does anything to get in my way. Compound those issues with thousands of people trying to navigate their way around the marathon, a course that isn’t in a straight line, and makes absolutely no sense from a zig-zag perspective, out-of-towners who don’t know where they’re going to begin with, at least 10 ambulances with no way to plow through the congested streets, and me, a person who’s already unstable from the disasters that were described earlier – it’s not a good recipe.

It’s a recipe for a bad disposition and raging headache, which I spent the rest of Sunday nursing. It’s also a recipe for a large glass of wine, which did nothing for the headache. No happiness to be had.

Maybe next weekend will be better.