I’m a wreck.

Ever have a day when you…just…couldn’t…sync up with the world around you?  A day littered with obstacles, the majority of which were self-created and/or inflicted?   Welcome to my Saturday.

I spent the past few days at home, nursing a fever, napping, and reading lots of books about men in tights and capes.  I woke up this morning feeling better and anxious to rejoin the workforce.  I punched my way through Kennedy Expressway traffic to make my way to Q101 for my 12 p.m. shift. 

I walked in the door at 11:45.  Dana greeted me with some surprise, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. 
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I thought Jen Jameson was on from 12-4.”
“Nope,” I said with confidence, and perhaps a trace of irritation.

I looked at the schedule posted in the studio.  Oddly, it had me listed as 4-8.  “I can’t believe they changed the schedule without telling me,” I said.

Dana stood up and started to look through all the previous November on-air schedules, which were layered underneath the current one.  Sure enough, each of those had me listed as 4-8.  Then I reached into my bag for my datebook (I’m fairly old-school in that regard).  I had 4-8 written down in my datebook, as well.  At that moment, it’s hard to say if I felt more embarrassment or self-loathing, though both made their presence felt.  I turned around and went back home.

Back at home, I had an odd and anxious feeling, the direct result of throwing off my day’s schedule.  I felt a bit like Dante in “Clerks”:  “I’m not even supposed to be here today.”

When I did make the return trip downtown, I wrestled through stop-and-go traffic, a numbing trip that had me cursing the fact that the express lanes were going the opposite way.  When I finally got near the Merchandise Mart, I pulled into an open-air, self-park, lot around the corner.  The first spot I chose was too narrow, so I backed out of it.   The spot was, in fact, so narrow that i tore my side view mirror off the second I threw my car in reverse.

To be fair, the spot does require some curving finesse:

I reparked my car, not knowing whether to scream, cry,  or go back home.  I opted instead to show up for my 4 p.m. shift. 

Now that I’m at the station, I feel fairly safe in my studio cocoon, though I’m being extra careful to keep liquids away from the console and to not swear when my microphone is on.

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