Remind me not to get up tomorrow

My week so far, by french, age 25.

Sunday: Reluctantly got up for day three of five for work, leaving Jay curled up in bed. Go outside to get in the car. Turn the key. Get a mere series of clicks. Run inside to get Jay's keys from him, so that I can drive his car to work. On the way to work, call Dad and determine that, as I suspected, my battery is dead. Jay thinks it is the starter, but then actually checks it out, and agrees.

Monday: Get up ass-early with Jay, so that he can jump me (and my car, ha ha) before work, and early enough that I can get the battery replaced before volunteering at nine. Car will not jump-start. Lose my shit completely, as it is 8:00 in the morning, I have only gotten four hours of really crappy sleep, and I do not want my car dead because starters are really fucking expensive.

Call Dad again, who tells me to take off the battery terminals and clean under them, which I should know to do myself, but am being a girl, so don't. Fail at this, but do clean the outsides, which miraculously enables my car to start. Get new battery, also find out that one of the terminals was cracked. Volunteer, then go to work, and deal with completely incompetent new supervisor, and want to cry.

Tuesday: Get up butt-early to go to day of meetings at work. Discover shower is filled with five inches of scuzzy standing water, and bathtub is in similar state. Want to go back to bed. Go to work, have donut for breakfast because stress-eating is awesome, and deal with both incompetent new supervisor and incompetent old boss. Drop off car on way home to investigate mysterious clunking from under my left foot, and finish homework for grad school. Also discover that shower is still filled with water. Drink.