Feeling: anxious
Listening to: aggie football, of course
Reading/Watching: nothing

Let's just say that Friday was a progressively bad day.

Woke up early in an attempt to finish laundry, homework, and packing before heading to Hometown for the weekend. I was unnaturally anxious about this little visit, because mon coeur was coming with me for the first time.

I did not finish homework early enough, had to race through shower and clothes, started on the road ten minutes late.

Primer-blue truck is weaving in its lane, so I try to get past it as soon as possible. As I'm passing, it decides it wants to occupy my lane. With me still in it.

Slam on my brakes, lean on my horn, and the truck gets so close I'm sure it tapped Luna, so I follow it, honking and motioning for the driver to pull over, and the dingleberry completely ignores me, until finally he pulls over into an apartment complex and I follow him in.

A middle-aged guy with a cowboy hat and a ponytail gets out, finally deigning to notice me. He starts all kind of apologies, saying "I didn't see you," which is kind of obvious, but oh well.

I look over Luna, gritting my teeth (because damn, I got her out of the body shop one week ago), and luckily, there's just a long paint scratch on my door and some primer-blue scratches on the front fender.

Cowboy Ponytail hands over his insurance information, and I copy it down, ignoring him as he circles behind me and continues to say he just didn't see me.

At least I had a good excuse for being late. I left the Power-Steering Ranch Hand apologizing in the parking lot and got to class twenty minutes late.

In choir, I was off-key. I know it means nothing to the majority of you, but to me, it's incredibly bothersome. Hard as I tried, as much as I concentrated, no matter how many different ways I approached the note, I was too tightly wound and I just kept singing off-fricking-key.

After choir, Miller wisely decided I was too brassed-off to attempt to have a voice lesson, so we just went out to lunch. I tried to breathe easier, relax, think about happy trees and soft fuzzy blue oceans.

Then we get out of the car, I shut the door, and Miller says casually, "Your car's still running."

And of course the car's locked, everyone knows you lock your doors before leaving your car, and I am fastidious, if not quite bright. I'm even clever enough to keep a spare key in a secret magnetic thingy somewhere on Luna's exterior, so I dig it out, all kinds of smug, and put the key in the door, and you know what? It's not my key.

Because last week, I gave the body shop my spare key, instead of the main one off my key ring. And they gave me back a different one, which I didn't bother to check before sticking in my uber-secret-magnetic-thingy. So my moment of triumph over Miller's moment of "haha, you're funny when you're dumb" kinda fell flat.

Luckily, the baffled restaurant waiters managed to find us a phone book. We sat there, eating our salads, with a dusty, gargantuan yellow tome between us, flipping through to find the number of the body shop. After giving my name and situation to three different people, and being on hold three times, someone finally promised to come with a lock popper, plus a random key they'd had floating about which could belong to me.

Ten minutes later, the body shop guy comes, and it is my key they found, so I get to open my car and turn it off while retrieving my spare for the uber-secret-magnetic-thingy.

Miller apparently pitied me, and while I was opening my car, he ordered something piled with six kinds of chocolate, which was waiting on the table when I got back.

Things really didn't get peaceful until I was on the road for Hometown, with mon coeur reading in the passenger seat, both of us talking about our bad days. It's quite ridiculous that I'm nervous about this weekend with my family, and he, the prospective intruder, is not.

Now that the weekend is going well, I'm wondering why I worried at all. (Especially since Dad hasn't noticed the blue scratch on Luna's side. Whew.)

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