Tuesday would have been a normal, uneventful day, but it turned out to be one of those FAIL days where my brain would goof up on me.
It was already past 6 PM. I was skimming my Facebook news feed to while away the time and posting random thoughts like this:
After getting ready to leave the office, and hanging around a bit and having a chat with an office mate, my brain just had an idea: hey, maybe I should get a beer tonight! With that thought in mind, I ended up at Jamba Juice (wait, what?). Yeah, Jamba Juice.
LOL let me explain further.
My thought process while heading to High Street was: Do I really want a beer? Of course I want beer! But it’s a Tuesday, I have work the next day. It’s just one bottle. Loser beer? Really? Why can’t I just drink something healthier? But I already claimed beer to be a fruit. Oooo… I feel like having orange juice. Or a fruit smoothie. There’s Jamba Juice. Smoothie it is then!
See? Do you see the connection now?
Anyway, I got to the counter, looked at the menu, and dug into my bag for my wallet. Wait. Fudge. What? My wallet is not here. Mini panic attack! Ok, it’s a good thing I haven’t ordered anything yet. Is it in the office? Yeah, it should be at the office, in my drawer. Or on my desk. Damn, I got to call someone to keep it safe until I get back there.
Called officemate A: number cannot be reached, damn.
Called teammate C: she just left. WAAAH. Asked her if officemate 3 was still at the office when she left.
Called teammate D: YES! He’s still there!
I asked him if he could check whether my drawer was open or not (it was locked), and check my desk if there’s a wallet lying around (there was none). UGH. I have to go back and check myself.
Take note, I was wearing these high heeled wedges that night. I already walked from the office up to High Street Central (and I stopped over Juicy Couture, Diesel and Banana Republic to window shop before I went to Jamba Juice), and now had to go back again.
I was walking briskly on the way back because I was nervous that my wallet might not be where I was hoping it would be. But dear god, I need to check. By the time I got to my work station, I was already out of breath, my injured hand was somewhat throbbing, my legs were starting to complain, I was sweaty and was getting cranky. Thank you so much, stupid wallet!
LOL sure, blame it on the wallet, Joiz.
I should mention, it’s the third week of waiting for my sprained hand to mend. This is also the first time I wore muscle tape instead of an elastic bandage. The difference? I can wash or get my right hand wet without worrying the bandage will get soiled or icky from getting wet too often. Another difference was I was heavily aware of my hand that night. There was still support but it felt loose and lighter. It basically felt different.
So yeah, after I got my wallet which was lounging quietly (mocking me) in my pedestal drawer, and after I got out of the office (for the 2nd time that night), I lost all desires to walk back to High Street and buy that smoothie. Or that beer. I no longer felt well, and my hand was starting to hurt. It felt like I was going to be sick and might have to go on leave the next day.
Which I did. Stupid wallet!