Worst. Day. Ever. So I figured I'd whine about it in my blog. That's what it's for, right?
Well, not really worst ever, but it's the worst one recently, so it gains extra points for proximity.
Started with me being empty-headed and forgetting to take stuff to work. Fortunately (or not so much) Eris was not at school due to feeling unwell, so Lisa took her to my mum's and dropped stuff off on the way. Yay Lisa.
Read about a truck crashing into a train about the time I was going to leave, and decided to let things settle for an hour or so before heading out on the road.
Never made it to the road, because one of my tyres was flat. When going to change it, it transformed from a momentary inconvenience into a major problem. All the wheel nuts except one came loose easily. The last one, as I strained to turn it, stripped into something more circular than hexagonal, leaving nothing to turn it with.
I decided to say "fuck it" at this point, and walked to the bus stop at Monash, deciding not to wait around for the RACV, since all I wanted was food and a beer. Got to Clayton station and boarded a train that smelled of wee. Got to Flinders Street and found no indication of a Werribee train on anything. Wandered to platform 5, where it was revealed that the next Werribee train was half a fucking hour away.
Two minutes later, a train pulls up under a "not taking passengers" display, which then briefly flickers into the magical word "Werribee" and details its plans to leave in two minutes. Good thing I didn't give up and go and get the drink I was craving.
Board the train, get a seat, huge person squeezes me up against the wall, which I take with gentle good humour. At least I'm going in the right direction.
Drunk guy on the train explains to anyone listening that, "trains can move electricity at one hundred miles an hour -- that's the same class as car speeds".
Disembark at Newport, aforementioned drunk guy and another drunk guy decide to fight on the platform. Williamstown train arrives. Three Connex "inspectors" or whatever the hell they are, are onboard. A couple of people indicate the fight on the platform. Mumbling, they move down the other end of the train and thank us for informing them. I never see them again. What the hell are they for? Oh yeah, revenue protection.
Finally meet Lisa for dinner. She listens to me whine about stuff, we eat, talk about life and stuff, eat good food, drink beers, I feel a bit better.
I have some sort of plan to recover my car on Wednesday. I don't need it this weekend. I've got four days off, and they better be an improvement on my fucking week so far.
Two sleeps until I get to hug my daughter. That always helps.
