Can I Start Over?

Okay, so I'm driving to work and I'm already late but I decide to stop at Starbucks for some coffee to treat myself for running the furthest I've ever run my whole entire life (exactly 2.5 miles). The line is massive, but I don't care, so I sit patiently and on a whim, decide to order one of those skinny lattes that have always existed but are being marketed like it's a new drink. (Obviously, I've been duped.) I go with the tall skinny mocha, because that's their newest syrup option, and that's that.

I wait to try it until I'm starting to get frustrated because I'm driving around campus, desperately trying to find a parking spot that isn't a mile away because today I decided to wear heels to dress up my jeans on casual Friday. (That might have been my first mistake of the day.) The drink is absolutely disgusting, and I grumble because I figure that's what I get for spending more than $3 on a coffee I didn't need to buy and could have fixed a much better, free drink once I got to work. I finally find a spot in the garage, pull in, get my act together and I'm on my way.

I take a detour through the Student Life Center to get out of the blistering cold that is literally freezing my face and giving me a headache because I still haven't cooled down from my morning run (really). The only respite before the detour was taking sips of my hot, but awful Starbucks drink. I get inside the SLC and decide to rid myself of said horrible drink, only to throw the keys I am holding in the same hand into the trash can along with the coffee. I wait for a few strangers to pass by until I reach inside the trash can like a dump-diver, and retrieve my now coffee soaked keys. A very friendly classmate passes by at the same time, and provides a much needed dose of encouragement and support for what is turning out to be a crazy morning.

We meander through the building to the other side, where we have to brace the weather yet again before the final stretch to Sarratt. We're talking about my job search and my morning, when I manage to stop paying attention to my footing for one second and jam my heel right into one of the cracks between the sidewalk. Sure enough, the shoe gets lodged and I move forward without it. I manage a frustrated chuckle, put the shoe back on, and Elizabeth joins me for the rest of the walk to Sarratt that leaves me rather breathless (because I'm talking and talking and talking) and quite cold.

We part ways on the second floor of the building, and I plop into my desk chair like I just finished climbing Mount Everest. My supervisor comes in to see how my morning has been, and all I can do is laugh. I recount the story quickly, and he says something about a manic Friday and I pitifully agree, saying something about how stuff like this just isn't supposed to happen on the last day before the weekend. Maybe Monday, but not Friday.

But it did, and I survived. Thanks to the kind heart of an acquaintance, the reassuring warmth of what tends to be a cold office, and what seems to be a growing ability to endure difficulty, I am more than just okay.

(That doesn't mean I wouldn't mind starting over, though.)

-Kristine