One of THOSE Days

I wake up this morning to a general feeling of unwellness. I'm just tired, I think to myself as I take my shower, make my bed, get dressed, and do my hair and makeup. I'm not as hungry as I usually am by the time my body catches up to me, but I eat my dry cereal as my mom and I head out the door.

My book can't seem to hold my attention. I just need to get into a bit more, I think. I put my book down and flip through a magazine instead as I wait for my time to drive to the TRAX station. I sing along with a newly purchased album on my iPod (going through the car's tape deck) and get to the station, a bit later than normal, but on time to catch the train.

I have been reading on the train the past two weeks. Though I suffer from horrible motion sickness, it doesn't usually affect me on the train. About halfway through the train ride, my head starts getting that dizzy icky feeling of motion sickness. I probably just didn't eat enough breakfast, I think, I'll feel better once I get to work. I put my book away and try not to stare out the window at the scenery rushing by one long blur.

An hour later, the motion sick feeling still hasn't gone away. I think that if I eat some crackers, I'll feel better. Nope. Maybe I should drink some more water. Nope. Even doing my work seems to aggravate my head. The motion of my eyes going back and forth on the page make me feel like I'm on a carnival ride. It's getting a little ridiculous. Finally, it's lunch time. A bit of fresh air, and some sugar in my system will do me good.

Though a bit windy, it is a beautiful day. I don't read my book like I usually do. I just eat my lunch and people watch. I feel better. Good, it's finally going away, I think. I go back to work and sit at my desk to continue my reading, and the tilt-a-whirl starts back up. Do doddle do do do. I'm getting kind of tired of this.

After I finishing my proofreading, I am given a picture. "Find the artist's name for this," I'm told. Here are the things I know about this picture: it's the nativity, and it is a woodcut print. No title. Not even a time period. I spend the last 2 1/2 hours of my day going through thousands of pictures trying to find it. No go. None of my search terms seems to work. Finally, it's time to go home. I am so exhausted! All I have to do is get on the train and get home.

I stop to talk to the editor who gave me the picture. Because of this I am a bit later leaving and miss the train by 5 seconds. I have to wait another 15 minutes for the next one to come. Then, about 5 stops from mine, there is a bump and the train goes quiet. It coasts into the station and stops. While the conductor tries to figure out how to fix it, we sit. For 15 minutes.

And that's when I think: Today is just one of those days. But at least I got to talk to the cute new mailroom guy.