One of those days

Considering that it's a Friday and I've got the entire weekend stretching in front of me, today has been one of the worse days I've sat through this week. Sure, I wasn't tired when I woke up. It was 6:30, though, a full half hour before I was due to wake up for my first alarm (so I've got three set at 15 minute intervals...I wake up dead, OK? It takes a few tries) and I wasn't able to get back to sleep. I eventually got up and struggled to get anything right for the rest of the day. It's almost like the mozzies I was swatting last night put some sort of curse on me as they died. Or maybe they were just the start of the curse? Who knows...

There was public transport dramas, having already been made later than planned by the discovery of an unexplained cut on my foot right where my shoe touched. Naturally, I had no band aids to put on it, and Tesco had a woman doing her weekly shop in the express store. One of those Murphy moments. The English cricket supporters were out in force as I went past the pub at a time closer to 10 than the 9:30 start time I'm supposed to make it for. They were fairly quiet for the morning, though, thanks to a reasonable start by the Australian cricket team. A decent start that collapsed at the first hint of rain - a downpour that coincided with me leaving the building at lunchtime, incidentally, and only lasting the duration of my lunch break, down to the second. But I wasn't paying too much attention to the abysmal batting performance of my national team, in spite of the increasingly loud cheers coming from the stands at the Oval, because I was researching things other than work.

It has been noted that I've been angry lately. It's a fair observation. I've been more prickly than a porcupine, to tell the truth, and I have to admire my housemates for putting up with the lashing of nastiness I've been dishing out when not holed up in my room so I don't lacerate them with my tongue. So what made my former landlord decide that now, after weeks of promising our bond would be returned for our old flat, was the time to tell us they were withholding money for a professional clean that we think was unnecessary, and doubt if it ever happened anyway. So I've been searching for precedence. And it seems that they're supposed to return the bond within 10 days of our request. Or at least let us know they're holding some back, and why, so we can argue our case. They mistakenly gave me a target for unleashing a little justified vitriol. I'm wishing I'd had as much angry eloquence - not to mention so many experts to refer to in support of my arguments - when I was dealing with Virgin screw ups last year. Whatever, my landlord and the agent are both in receipt of an email that will hopefully shake loose the entirety of our deposit.

Which is more than can be said for the poor unfortunate client I was supposed to be issuing a door schedule for this afternoon. I was so fired up with my righteous anger that I lost track of the limited hours available to me for work. So I was forced to call up the project architect and admit my failure after he'd gone in to bat for me and given me a glowing review that helped me to keep my job earlier this month. I hate letting him down, because it seems to happen with disturbing regularity, but he's such a nice guy he actually consoles me before he goes to beard the lion (client) in his den every time I miss a deadline.

And that's the thing with a Jonah day like today. It's not just me that's affected by the run of outs, until I concede defeat and go hole up in my room out of the way of other people. Doesn't mean I'm not still clutching my Deposit Protection Certificate and muttering phrases like 'alternative dispute resolution' or 'notification of a deposit complaint' or, most shockingly, 'small claims court'. Seriously, having a crack at the deranged angry woman who's already having a bad day, week, month? Might as well just start poking a bear in the butt with a stick. You're less likely to get your head ripped off, as far as I can tell.