Sometimes Mondays (And Mornings) Just Suck

Apologies for not posting anything in about a week. I've been totally slacking, and I admit it. I hope to do better in the future. I'll try very hard anyway.

Despite the high likelihood of feeling even more like a moron after writing this all out, I'm going to tell this story. I think it's important to have the ability to laugh at yourself. Hours after this incident occurred, I was finally able to laugh about it. Though I am still a little bitter...

Monday morning was, first of all, a Monday. Which is bad enough as it is. The end of a weekend is one of my least favorite things. Mondays make me want to crawl into a cave and sleep until Friday rolls around.

Secondly, I had to get up at 7, because I have my practicum Monday, Wednesday, Friday every week, and I have to be there at 8. I'm not a morning person, so being up at 7am is just not high on my list of happy things. Practicum is great, and I love what I'm doing, but the whole 7am thing just kills me sometimes.

Mornings and I have never been friends. I'm such a night owl. I work better at night, I'm more creative at night, I'm less irritable at night...just all kinds of reasons I like the evening hours better than morning ones. Conversations with me and my roommates in the morning tend to go like this:

Roomie: Good morning, Joanna!

Me: ...morning...

R: How are you?

M: *grunt*

R: I slept great! How'd you sleep?

M: ...fine...

R: Good. You have practicum now?

M: *nod* Yup...

R: Have fun! Have a great day!

M: Thanks... *walk out the door*

I just don't understand morning people. I don't want to be confronted with this

when I've just woken up and feel like this...

Side note: None of my roommates are actually hardcore morning people who think mornings are magical. They're actually just more bubbly than I am in general. That's what happens when one introvert lives with three extroverts. Weird how that happened. 

Anyway, Monday morning I got up, started getting ready, then at 7:30, I started my car. I have a remote starter, thanks to my parents who had it installed in my car as one of their more ingenious Christmas gifts to me a year ago. It's fantastic for when, like me, you live in a state that gets coated in snow in the winter. You can start your car from the warmth of your room, then go outside to a car that's already fairly warm.

So at 7:45, I bundled up and made my way out to my car. I opened the door, turned the heat up as high as it would go, put my keys in the ignition, then grabbed the brush and proceeded to clear snow off my car. Which was made difficult by the fact that there are still snow drifts nearly a foot deep all around thanks to the "Snowpocalypse."

I finish clearing off my car, walk back to the driver's side door, give the window one last swipe for good measure, and...*click* I stare in abject horror as my car locks itself.

So there I am, standing in the parking lot, a scraper in my hand, staring helplessly at my car and desperately trying to figure out what I should do. Of course, futilely, I tried to open the door. Looking back on it, I'm not sure why I bothered. Desperation will make you do crazy things sometimes.

So then, furious, I stomped back into my dorm room, slammed my scraper down on the counter, and pulled out my cell phone while Mal stares at me in confusion. She didn't even have to ask what happened: "I locked my keys in my car." I dial the number for campus security, thinking they'll be able to help me out of my predicament, but the answer I got was "Uh...no ma'am. We don't have the tools for that." 

Panicking, I did the only thing I could think of: I called my mom. I knew my mom wouldn't be able to help directly, but I thought maybe she'd have some advice. As I'm explaining what happened, I'm getting more and more frustrated and angry, and feeling stupider by the second. I hate feeling stupid, especially when it's my own fault, and when I get really angry, I tend to cry. So I'm on the phone with my mom, and I just start bawling. (The fact that I'm PMSing and extra-emotional didn't help at all.)

My mom naturally tries to comfort me, and asks repeatedly if I'm alright. I tell her I'm just crying because I'm mad and I feel stupid and that I'm fine.

She says she'll call my dad and then have him call me, so I go back to my bedroom, sit at my desk, and sulk/pull myself together. At this point, I know I'm going to be extremely late for practicum, so I call and explain the situation. Fortunately they're very nice people, and my duties are flexible, so being late was no big deal at all.

Finally my dad calls and I go through the whole story again, once again bringing myself to tears. The conversation is much the same as with my mom, so again, I'm asked if I'm alright, and again I say I'm angry and stupid and I'm fine. My dad tells me he's called someone to come take care of it, and they'll be to my parking lot in about half an hour.

So, after an hour-long ordeal, the tow truck pulled into the parking lot. I headed outside to find a guy working on unlocking my car. I thanked him and climbed in, and immediately felt like I'd walked into a sauna. After left running for an hour with the heat on full blast, my car felt like it was approximately 159.2 degrees inside. On a more positive note, there was no snow or ice left on my car at that point! 

Finally I made it to practicum. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, then told me they were glad I made it. It was nice to know they had missed me for that hour I wasn't there. They wouldn't have wanted me there in that state anyway. My life was in mortal peril for an hour. I was not a friendly person. 

In fact, my poor roommate Kelsey and visiting friend Sarah were subjected to my wrath at one point. I came out of my bedroom to go out to my car once the tow truck arrived, and they were sitting out there, oblivious to my situation so far.

I told them what had happened, they felt bad for me, I said goodbye, and I left. I feel a little bad about that still, so since I'm sure they'll both be reading this...I apologize for my wrath. It wasn't you, it was me. That was an awful morning, I was in an awful mood, and I'm sorry you had to see that.

Frankly, I'm sorry anyone ever has to see me in the morning, even if it's just an average day not corrupted by something stupid like locking my keys in my running car. It would probably be much safer to leave me in isolation in the mornings. At least until my "it's morning and I'd rather still be sleeping" grump has worn off. That cave is probably a good place for me until then.