Mondays for me at work suck so damn much. On top of the usual drudgery, I also had to deal with the nazi regime that is the property managers at my dad's senior care facility.
And then my dad fell (AGAIN!) this morning. And didn't tell me. And won't tell me anything that led to the fall or answer any of my questions - did you trip?, were you dizzy? did you bruise anything (besides your ego)?
So damn frustrating.
I was able to do something for myself today at least - I got my eyebrows waxed and a much needed pedicure. I could have stayed in that chair with that little Vietnamese lady massaging my legs and feet all night.
Now I face the daunting task of packing more of my shit up. At least I'm doing it with a fucking cocktail - Sprite Zero, coconut rum, and pineapple juice. Bliss.