(Un)righteous Anger

Today was a bit of a continuous, unjustified rant.

It all started with my 8 a.m. journal meeting. To make said meeting, I have to leave my home at 6:30 a.m. I woke up at 6 a.m. I didn't have time to put make-up on. Daughter and I left at 6:45 a.m. I was fifteen minutes late to journal. When you are fifteen minutes late, you don't get coffee. You have to wait until the meeting is over.

So I'm tired. I'm feeling fat. I'm feeling ugly. I'm feeling uncaffeinated. And to what should my wondering eyes appear? An uber hot, uber peppy business rep. giving a forty-five minute presentation on her product.

We're not talking Homecoming Queen hot. We're talking size 2 with perfect hair and nails and a little bit of a valley girl accent. She's obviously smart, she's a law school graduate, she can't be over 30, and she's doing a flawless presentation. My hatred of her is totally unwarranted and undeserved. It's not her fault she's perfect! And yet, the thought of her chipper voice coming from behind her pearly whites framed by precisely-painted lips causes my eyes to roll and my finger to uncontrollably move past my tongue and towards the back of my throat...

From there, Casanova and I were studying. Casanova asks innocently enough if I have completed my closing statement for class. I glare. I icily ask him if he has read the syllabus. He innocently asks if I have. I stare him down and give a stiff, YES.

I have the syllabus. It's in my bag right next to me. But I'm just so pissed that he would even suggest the most horrible thought that I misread the assignment and didn't prepare a closing argument, that I can't even function. I am afraid to look at that dang syllabus for FEAR that he is correct.

Luckily for me (and on some level, Casanova), we did not have to do a closing statement. I apologized to Casanova for overreacting a little, and THH made a crack to the effect of, "that was way more than a little over-reaction!" to which I turned and gave him an icy stare of DEATH.

My third and final victim was Rebecca at Lia Sophia. A few, er, months ago I ordered some Lia Sophia jewelry. The first day I wore my $34 necklace, it broke. I was irritated. I had 120 days to return it and get a free replacement, minus the cost of mailing the dang thing.

I think I ordered the necklace around April. So yes, my time has expired. After 120 days, I just need to add a $5 shipping and handling charge. Simple enough. And yet... and yet the day I FINALLY got around to preparing the necklace for mailing, I was in "a mood" and I wrote a note that said I Refused to invest any more money in a stupid necklace I wore for less than 24 hours thank-you-very-much. You can keep the necklace or send me a new one but I will NOT send you another $5. After about 2 weeks of sitting in my purse waiting for a trip to the post office, the dang thing finally was mailed out on Friday.

Today, Rebecca left a message on my voice mail that said she "lacked the authority to waive the $5 and that if I wanted, she could forward this on to her supervisors, but that she herself was unable" to help me. Her voice sounded strangely perfect, perhaps she is related to this morning's peppy business rep. I called her back, mind you I had night class so I am driving home at 9:15 p.m., and I left a lengthy message.

It was in a nice tone. The kind of nice crazy people use when they are threatening you but they don't want to draw attention from nearby cops. I think I said something to the effect that I didn't care what they did with the necklace, that whatever they did I was going to blog about it, and that yes, I wanted it sent up the ladder for consideration by a supervisor.

You know you aren't holding many cards when your biggest threat is that you are going to blog about it. Especially in my case, when all it means is that a dozen people now think I'm a stubborn idiot and are taking up a collection to raise $5 to un-ransom my necklace.

And look. It's 12:30 a.m. Time to call it a day! To quote a great theologian: SERENITY NOW!