Arrrrgh

Today started as a happy day. I was a happy girl. Finished my readings for the semester, nothing left to do but study for finals, rustled up the rent money, got enough left to feed us.
Yup, no. Fucking electric company, who I've been paying regularly, for the last three fucking years, have decided that because my bill is two months behind, I obviously have no intentions of ever paying again. Despite the fact that I've been paying those little cunts for the last three years, like clockwork. So just to give me a little added incentive, they're threatening to cut me off. On Friday.
And a Merry Fucking HoHoHo to you too, bitches. I hope your nicely electrified Christmas tree catches on fire, and burns your little electric company offices to the ground, with all of you in it. And all your Christmas presents too.
Assholes.
And just to add insult to injury, my two week disposable contacts, which I've been wearing for something like six weeks now, are starting to burn holes through my eye sockets, and are liquefying what remains of my brains. I look like a fucking crackhead, all bleary eyed, squinty, and red.
Glasses? Yeah, they're broken.
Go blind? Yeah, not so much. I used to be blind, when I was younger. Now, I'm so far beyond blind that people with white canes help me across the street. Seeing eye dogs shake their heads in dismay at the sight of me.
Fuck. At least I won't need to worry about contacts around the house, once I get my electricity cut off, since the sun sets at like, 4:30, and I'm out of candles, and don't even own a flashlight.
We're all on equal footing, once the dark sets in.
Jolly.

So to all you holiday celebrators, with presents under your trees, and turkeys in the oven, and uses for lightbulbs, all I can say is:

Santa's not real. It was all a big fat lie to make you shut up and eat your vegetables.

Take that.

Update: I'm okay now. See, I can't handle negative situations like a grown up: I can work off that rage in positive and beneficial ways. Yeah, check out this responsible use of anger induced energy: Once I finished ranting, I fed and bed the child, cat and fish, did the dishes, tidied the house and cleaned the kitty litter. Because happiness is a clean litter box.
Then I got rid of the remnants of my rage by taking The Kids jacket (the zipper broke this morning) and lighting it on fire, then chasing Satan's Cat (who, as of today, has eaten three roles of toilet paper in less than week) around the apartment with it while screaming, "Next time, this is you Cat! You hear me? Don't mess with my toilet paper!"
Okay, so that last part might have just been in my imagination.
Then I lit some candles, put on some soothing music and did some yoga.
Yeah. Right, that's it.
So maybe I watched Futurama while downing tortellini and brownies.