Irritated

Do you ever just have one of those days when you wake up already irritated? Perhaps due to a dream, or maybe just something that happened the night before. Then before you know it, you're at work, and half a second after you arrive, EVERYTHING is on your nerves, not the least of which is the freakishly loud grumbling coming from the oversized, probably overworked freezer in the back that's size can only be justified by its intent to hold bodies. However, despite my mood and the noise in the back that was tempting me to slam my head against a wall, I did manage to scrape up the remnants of a smile, paste them on my face, and ask "what can I get for ya" to the next customer in line. My answer to their "how are you today" was "Ok. Ish." which no one really understood, but I just shrugged and continued to look at them expectantly. Praise JESUS only a few people ordered hot chocolates today, as making those things is the bane of my existence. The powder is too fine, it leaves mushroom clouds reminiscent of a mini-Hiroshima, and if I inhale too soon after appearance of said mushroom cloud, I then erupt into a fit of hacking that tends to draw a look of alarm from the customer; a look I of course dismiss with a wave as I use the world's tiniest wire whisk to mix the chocolate sludge at the bottom of the cup, my cocoa stained knuckles whirring around in time to a bad rendition of whatever pop song to which someone has chosen to produce an acoustic cover. The worst so far is a cover of Abba's Dancing Queen. Really? Any disco slow dance song was never meant to be a new campfire favorite. Or belted out by a guy that sounds like Aaron Neville with bronchitis. That's just a bad idea all around.

All in all, today was a day, one that thankfully ended on an up note with a large dose of Chipotle and Mr. Pibb Xtra. Now I have a burrito baby in my belly. Nothing says a good night's sleep like indigestion.