Keira-anne.com

Today I went to work. Because it was Friday, not only was I permitted to wear jeans, but there is also an unspoken understanding that it is okay to feel a general sense of slack. That being the case, work, though long, was a breeze today. I thought it wasn’t bad for a Friday, the 13th of the month no less. Not that I am superstitious by any means.

I came home at lunch to walk the boys and spend some quality play time with them, as I do every day. And as always, they were ecstatic to see me. The three of us proceeded to go down the elevator, the boys on short leashes. The steel door pushed sideways on ground level, only to reveal a rather large and obviously muscular dog that I believed to be a breed of mastiff. This dog was not muzzled nor on a leash, and instantly bound for Benji and Casey. Being the protective woman that I am, I had no choice but to scoop them up and run for the front door; there wasn’t even enough time to cast a stern look at the woman who was obviously unable to compete with the strength of her own canine.

As if that wasn’t enough, the building manager was outside overseeing the unloading of building supplies from a truck in the back alley. As we got closer, he yelled over to me and said “make sure you clean up after your dogs.” I held up my fist with plastic bags wadded up inside and retorted “that’s what these are for.” Despite the condescending nature of his comment, I remained good spirited.

“Well, your dog just shit behind you!”

I was confused as I didn’t see either of them squat, and I’m sure that look of confusion must’ve been conveyed through my expression, only to be followed by an “oh.”

“Why don’t you touch it? It’s probably still warm!” This comment astounded me to the point where all I could do was stare incredulously at him. I turned around, scooped the poop as I would normally do and allowed the boys to continue wandering the courtyard. In the meantime, the crew finished up their work; however, the building manager planted foot at the front door, arms folded across his bulging belly, and watched us. I haven’t been that belittled in a long time.

Needless to say, the concierge got an earful that afternoon when I returned after work. Thankfully, I received a sympathetic and understanding ear.

Did my day end there? No, not so much.

After work I knew I had a few errands to run in the downtown core, so I loaded into the car and took off. Would you believe it took a solid hour to do so? I’m convinced that the Province of British Columbia has, countless times, issued drivers’ licences to complete fucknuts. Nobody knows how to drive in this city.

After all of that, I figured that I deserved a little bit of comfort food. Comfort food for me, today, translated into McDonald’s. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally pulled into the drive-thru at the Main Street location. I ordered my usual two cheeseburgers (no pickles), fries and a Diet Coke. Finally something good in my day…something to look forward to.

I got home and laid everything out on the counter. I open the bag only to find a damned double cheeseburger. Only one. WHO THE HELL EATS TWO MEAT PATTIES AT ONE TIME? It was the nasiest thing I ever attempted to eat. I peeled one patty off, finished the burger as-was and grumbled my way over to the computer.

I think the only thing that can save me now is a hot bath, candles, Mozart and an early night’s sleep, curled up with les chiens.

Love me.