I feel like a dead thing

One a month on a Tuesday I have an LGBT Feminist Reading group meeting. It is my happy place to go to where I can be all smarty pants and feel like my intellectual muscles aren't atrophying.

On Monday I get a call from my mother telling me I'm needed to babysit my niece (the one I nannied over the summer) because she's sick (her her daycare is closed, or both) on Wednesday and can I come the day before so that I can be at my sister's house bright an early.

And I was all... ugh.

I refused to miss my one a month happy place, so I got up at five this morning in order to catch the ten to six bus which would get me in time to the central bus station of my city to catch to bus back to my home town where my sister lives.

Soooooo, yeah.

I slept for four hours (I'm a night person, I go to bed around midnight - one am and later on a regular basis) and was out the door at twenty to six... and arrived at the station just in time to see my bus stop, see me run and shout at the top of my lungs to "Wait! Wait a minute!"... it drove off.

Regular readers probably know what I said out lout at that point.

Say it with me: "Motherfuck!"

Luckily a cab came by and I dished out the dough I can't really spare for the fare and I arrived at the central bus station in time to get the earlier bus to my home town.

Thankfully, it's an hour and a half ride down south so I napped and I arrived lively enough to entertain my niece as she ate and messed up her hair, face and shirt as she smushed yoghurt all over herself.

Ah, the joys of being jobless, available and living so fucking far away.