Crappy Day

"Oh man", I tell her, "it's gonna be one of those days."
"And what is one of those days?", she asks. I can tell she really doesn't care, but for the sake of being nice she humors me.
"A shit day. A shitty shit filled day.", I say.
She forces a smile and I don't want to talk to her anymore. I don't want to see her anymore. I just wish she'd leave.
"Huh... And why is it gonna be a shitty shit filled day? As you so eloquently put it."
"Because. Just because."
"Oh", she says before turning for the door, "I guess I'll see you when I get home."
"Yeah. Bye." But she won't see me when she gets home.
After she leaves I make the dreaded phone call. The woman tells me a bed is available. I'll take it I tell her. The good citizens of the county will pay for my cleaning and in six months I'll do it again. I ask her if the food is good. She doesn't know. I ask if the beds are pillow top or euro top. Again, she doesn't know. I ask if it's subutex or suboxone. Subutex she says. Good. Very good.