If you wondering what Locus Horribilis is all about

It’s the day of the midterms at school.  The students have been at it for damn near 3 hours.  they still aren’t finished (most notably, the girl who started first.  Fucking overachievers.)
It’s been a massively shitty past few days.
Due to circumstance far out of my control, I’ve been carless for the past few.  Aside from not being able to take out my ‘roid rage out at the gym (the gym, alas is miles and miles away), I have also been condemned to the damn bus as a means of getting to work every morning.  My place of work is also miles and miles away from my home, and the commute works out to be 45 min with luck, which can putter out to an hour fifteen most days, when you add the wait at the bus stop as well.
Safe to say it isn’t pleasant.
But to compact the problem, I have a four hour break between shifts at work.  I normally use this time to go the aforementioned gym, then sit down with the computer to get some typing or reading done.  Not only have I not been able to engage in that leissure, but I haven’t been able to go home either, as everyone suggests I do.  An hour fifteen there and an hour fifteen back (10/16th of my total break) is punishing return of investment.   Would you pickup a house at that interest rate?  Of course you wouldn’t.
Now, this wasn’t a problem last time I taught here, because I would just walk over to the cafe across the street and kill time on the internet there.  However, their internet’s now been down for weeks, as if the one at my work places.  (Well, shit)
And of course, I work in the middle of nowhere.  One of many middle of nowhere’s that litter america.  And remember, its different from the middle of nowhere where I live, which is different from the middle of nowhere where I go to the gym.
But where I work is so middle-of-nowhere that my only lunch options are McDonalds and 7-11.
It can be crushing, really.
I got the car back today, and come back from a trip to the bank I spent an hour and a half in traffic.
It never ends.
As a final kick in the pants, I came to find that I am not as creative as I would like to believe.  I have a password I use for my online banking.  As far as passwords go, its pretty creative, or so I would like to think.  Its a pretty nice jumble of nonsense letters strung together in a way that is, for me, easy to remember.  Well, my bank has one of those two tier log-in processes where you first put in your user name, then you go to a new page where you put in your password, then you answer some security questions, then you finally get in.  This morning I was trying to log in to pay a bill that is due tomorrow (well, shit) and I forgot that first I have to put in my user name.  I furiously pounded out my password into the log in screen, and came to find out that my oh-so clever password is actually someone’s login ID.  I was greeted by this:

Ain’t that a kick in the dick.
I mulled over it for a while.
Then I changed my password.

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