I mean, if I was being positive, I would say that March through to now has been excellent to me, as indeed it has, but if I was rating it on a "how would an objective person have assessed me based on my ability to rationally tackle non-work-related-issues", I would get a big fat "f" for "Fucking Fatally bad", and I would deserve it.
Case in point - I decided to host a surprise birthday party on the same day that I was writing the New York Bar Ethics Exam (in caps for no good reason, as this was surely the easiest part of the entire New York Bar experience, and that includes locating the hotel in Amhurst). On that day, I needed to write the exam, then return home and prepare the apartment to host a whole bunch of strangers. After completing the exam, I drove back to Toronto, with a pit-stop at my childhood mall in Etobicoke to get party favors and a plunger (issue number the eighth*).
Yes, a plunger.
In addition to having to cross the Canada-US border twice (which I hate crossing), and having to face the prospect of turning the apartment into an appropriate (acceptable (fuck, passable)) party venue, I also had to deal with the fact that the plumbing wasn't exactly co-operating with me (or anyone in the building, in my defense).
I needed a plunger, and probably ideally a magical one. Which is why, when my manic and sleep-deprived eyes lit on this packaging, I bought it without thinking twice.
If I HAD thought twice, I would have realized that I was not buying one plunger with the strength of five plungers, but five plungers, each with the strength of one plunger, which makes much more sense.
I got the plumbing cleared up just fine, but I was also the proud owner of five fucking plungers, when I really hoped to never even need the one again. I threw them four extras into the back of my closet, thinking but not believing that they would come in handy one day****.
Today, I proved myself to be wrong (or right, depending on which way you look at it), when I collected three sorry plunger-needing friends off Bloor Street and brought them to plunger-central, where I dispensed my logic and plumbing tools with grace (I hope) and alacrity (yes).I fear this makes me the plungerfairy; I hope it does not (though I still have one extra to give away, and if that math doesn't make sense to you, it's because you think I share all of my plunger info on the blog).
Exhibit 1. If you read this packaging and you don't see "more practical and way fucking more traction" then I don't want to know about it.
*After locating hotel, studying for exam, locating testing center, gaining admission to testing center**, returning home, and obtaining alcohol for birthday party
**at midnight, the night before the exam, I finally took a look at the admissions ticket that I had, in a very out-of-character-move, printed and placed (without reading carefully (more in-character)) in a blue plastic folder, and realized that I needed to affix a passport-sized photograph to the ticket to gain admission. I obviously did not have one of these. After an hour of me and the entire downtown Holiday Inn Buffalo staff trying to locate a 24-hour Kinkos within an hour drive of downtown Buffalo (fucking zero, ps) I cut my photo out of my work security pass and spent the rest of the night in extremis wondering if I would even gain entrance to the exam***.
***I did, and passed easily, which doesn't come as a surprise to you, because you know I am an ethical person and also am very good at memorizing lists, which totally explains my early success in biology and even basic chemistry. Anyways....
****Such as the day when aliens who are only vulnerable to low-grade rubber try to invade my apartment to steal Gordon. Or the day when my only option is to plunge myself to safety, in which case, I would prefer to use a new, pristine plunger.