I almost brought out the Anti-Vexation Vixen today, defender of the innocent against second hand smoke in enclosed areas and people who don't respect personal bubbles.
It was simply, as they say, one of those days.
I had originally planned a series of intricate bullet points outlining every injustice that had been piled upon me, typed with utter conviction and ferocity. The entire world would know how the bus driver ignoring my persistent palm tapping against the door than had closed a mere two seconds ago. How a bureaucratic error may have piled another class to this seemingly endless PhD procedure. How many words I have written in the past 24 hours. How my soon-to-be landlady appears to wear the crown declaring her the almighty queen of flakiness. (And even how my beloved hockey team is dangling precariously on the verge of playoff oblivion).
But I won't.*
Instead I'll tell you that I have better words stored in this muddled brain of mine, expressive words, meaningful words, that deserve far more air time than these supposed injustices.
And that maybe I should dig out those infamous rainbow socks.
* Okay, maybe I cheated a little.
** Also, I am going to tell you that an example of these better words are posted on the wonderful Indie Blogger today. Perhaps the past 24 hours weren't a total bust, were they?
*** As though my bad day just had to dot a few more i's and cross a few more t's, after I wrote this, I went to brush my teeth, and somehow flicked toothpaste in my eye. Which actually hurts a damn lot. Apparently minty goodness and my retina aren't friends.