What a day it was.
Actually, my day was pretty rad. I finished my painting for the Eat Your Art Out show happening on the 26th (and am actually waiting for the frame to dry so I can put the painting in the damn thing and call it freakin' done).
Okay, so I got to work and I felt sort of anxious. Which happens to me from time to time and there have been days when I feel so anxious that I make people wait or reschedule or I can't seem to draw their artwork correctly. It doesn't really happen too often and it could have happened with my first appointments of the day, but they flaked on their appointments and I was able to use the time to finish my painting. While I was painting/dicking around on facewaste/checking email/answering my phone/eating my lunch/texting/getting artwork ready for a tattoo later, I realized how close I am getting to deadline for the next artshow I am involved with. I got a little more anxious after this realization. This anxiety is not my favorite kind of motivator.
So, I took a deep breath and did what I could and made some progress.
Around 4:30 my appointment Justin came in to get tattooed. He had me tattoo his wife wearing a winged helmet. It was hot. It came out awesome. And I would post a picture, but here's why I am not.
When I stood after doing the tattoo I looked down at my stool and there was a small smear of blood. I sat down immediately. OMG. Fuck. Errrrrr. Why?!? Me?!? I told Justin we should just take a little break, that I wanted to go drink some water. I grabbed my hospital grade disinfectant and sprayed and wiped the seat down as fast as I could while he grabbed his shirt off of the counter. I waited for him to turn back around and grab his phone and slowly backed myself into the office hoping nobody was in there. Empty. Thank you. I walked to my desk, grabbed my purse, wrapped my jacket around my waist and went into the lobby where my friend Mandy was and I asked her to come to the bathroom with me. Mandy was there dropping off baby clothes, Mack wears all the hand-me-downs I can get (go green).
We went in the bathroom, and of course we forget to lock the door and Justin walked in on us and reminds us to lock the door. Mandy looked at my bum after I asked her if she could see anything on my jeans. She said she could a little bit and pulled my shirt further down. I asked her what I should do.
"You gotta go home," she said.
"F. You're right," I said
I went back into the office and probably seemed sort of scattered. I was annoyed with myself and nature and jealous of men and embarrassed all at the same time and I said, "I gotta go home."
Sam naturally asked me why and I told him lady issues; end of discussion. Hunter, who is sensitive to women in an endearing way at times, commented on the sweater tied around my waist.