My cinnamon meltdown

Monday’s workout: 25 min. lap swim | 25 min. 50/10 abs & core intervals: 600 reps | 40 min. walk.

To add to my previous post proof that I really am rather anxious about life in general these days, I experienced a full–blown meltdown this morning. The good news is it could have been worse…. but not much worse.

But let me back up. I went to bed about 11:15 last night, which is just too late to get up for a six a.m. workout. I can function on less than seven hours of sleep, but not well, not over several days, and certainly not with regular workouts. So I woke up to my early alarm, and then reset it for another 45 minutes of sleep.

When I got up, I did  25 minutes of cardio intervals. I tried to keep the hard impacts limited on my foot, but enough to get my heart rate up. Felt pretty good, did a quick wash up, and got ready for work. All in all, I felt OK, but I was really missing the refreshing morning swim that I’ve gotten used to. I went to work mildly regretting my decision. I like a standard routine, so my  morning felt off.

Then I headed to our regular cafe stop with my coworker Casey. We almost always go to the same place on campus, see the same barista(s), and order nearly the same things. My morning drink is always hot cinnamon spice tea.

Which they were out of this morning.

Insert huge and exaggerated gasp.

“I’m sorry,” said poor, new cashier guy. “Do you want a different tea?”

“No I don’t want a different tea! I don’t like the different teas,” said me. Which is a lie; I don’t like them as much, but there are others I like fine. I just forgot this in the moment.

“I mentioned last week that it looked like you were running out,” continued me, though I’m pretty certain I was possessed by someone other that my normal self by this point.

“And I told [insert employee who I honestly don’t know what he does; I only ever see him wandering around the Student Center] that we needed to order more,” said Dee, the amazing barista who I see all the time and to whom I really owe an apology.

“We’ll get more tea on Friday,” said the manager. “But we just got more frappuccino stuff if you want that instead.”

“No, I don’t drink that. I have a wedding! I don’t want all that sugar!” said my meltdown alter–ego.


I mean honestly.

I’m serious, my outburst probably lasted over five minutes.

Those were just the highlights. I said more that I can’t remember now. And poor Casey just stood there and watched. I left with a boring and very disappointing English Breakfast tea. Which isn’t bad at all; it’s a standard tea if I don’t see anything more exciting. But today it tasted horrible.

“Did I just sound slightly spoiled?” I asked Casey as we walked out. “Did I just have a straight up tantrum?”

Oh yes, most definitely.

I’m not sure if this counts as a bridezilla moment, as it wasn’t wedding related at all. But it was certainly a something–zilla moment! And it will be really funny after I go apologize to Dee. Until then, here I sit in shame, mulling over my symphony–of–errors morning and still craving some cinnamon spice in my life.

The horror.


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