rant.

Two days ago, a bird pooped on me. I walked into my office and began disinfecting my entire body with Clorox wipes. I explain to my coworker what happened as stares at me with a confused look. 

"Oh that's good luck!" she said. Then it's my turn to look confused. 

"How is being shit on by a bird good luck?" 

"It just is," she shrugged. 

At this very minute I am posted up against my apartment door, fighting angry tears. I was having a good night. I worked late and actually felt productive when I left and i went for a record long (and would-be record fast run, had I not stopped by Walgreens). I felt great as I rounded the corner to my door. That feeling instantly vanished when I reached for the key that wasn't there. 

I knew I should have doubled up on sports bras. 

Here's my reasoning. I keep forgetting to get dry shampoo every time I'm at the store. I figured, if I make it my mission when I'm out, I'll remember to stop in Walgreens on my way by. Point two: no one wants money out of a bra of a girl who ran to the store. I can barely fit my phone in my armband as it is, and it took me twenty minutes to try to squeeze it in with cash (debit card was definitely not making it).  So it was decided. Phone in hand, cash behind case, key in bra. 

I am an idiot. 

My lovely apartment complex has 24 hour maintenance, but they don't do lockouts. Imagine that.  

So here I am, waiting for a locksmith (that I have to pay), about to cry. I'll probably have to go for another run to make myself feel better.  

Good luck, my ass.