I may not be punctual, but...

It's not that I missed the last bus going out of the city till midnight. I can deal with that. People miss busses all the time. I miss busses all the time. It's the fact that I woke up at 4:30am, showered, pampered, curled, and packed for a departure time which I then thought was 6:30am. So, in my Sunday brown plaid best, boots and barbie bags, cut to me at 6:01, strolling into the ever-sketchy downtown Edmonton greyhound station feeling ahead of the game and like I looked like gold, watch (fading to bronze, then to a dull rust) as the ticket lady points to a departing bus and says, "I sorry, bus depawts at seex. No bus till meednight". The only thing that kept me from screaming bloody fucking sunday was the thought, "at least my hair looks fucking. Amazing." Who knew I was such an optimist?