On pattern people being evil and meeting the most American man in the world

Man, sometimes some days are just a big pile of crap. Like yesterday, everything went wrong and I felt like I was under water all day, being slow and sluggish and stupid. I hate it. I couldn't make sense of my pattern, because some idiot decided that red and green are the best colours to use to differentiate between pattern pieces. Never mind that colourblind people in the world, like yours truly, might like to make something from these pieces. "Fuck colourblind people," the people at the pattern company seem to have thought. "Fuck them all." Fuck you, pattern people.

I got my revenge on the pattern people by going to the fabric store and buying an enormous amount of fabric. Seriously, it was like the biggest bag they had. Fleece material is ridiculously fluffy and thick. I also got another pattern that will be far more easy to modify and make suit my purposes. I kinda can't wait to start when I get back from work tonight. I would start now, but I need to devote some time to the TEFL first. All play and no work makes for a hysterical next week when the deadline starts creeping closer.

I think I'm getting sick. Things always seem worse when you're sick. Seriously though, my throat's sore and I cough a lot, which is kinda un-fresh when dealing with food for a living. There's too much stress in my life too, and the thought of stuff I need to do to get rid of said stress is causing stress. There's just no way of winning for me. I feel like I'm running around in circles, progressively stressing myself out more and more by not listening to myself and wanting to please others way too damn much. The result is that I'm constantly feeling like I'm letting both myself and everyone else down, and thus I feel like shit pretty much all the time. It's not fair. If I could just be left alone and have people be fine with that instead of chasing me and trying to guilt trip me, I'd be a much happier person.

Speaking of too much social interaction, work was pretty busy today. It was a pleasant business where people show up at a good interval so that I don't have to stress like a crazy person to make sure that everyone gets what they want. Amidst these people was an American man who apparently was in a bit of a rush. He scarfed down some sushi and sashimi but still took the time to try to chat me up. He was the most American man I've ever met. He had an enormous square jaw and a thick Californian accent, and he came off as being unintentionally a bit of a rich dick.

Ridiculously American man (RAM): "So the rich part of town, what's it called again?"
Me: "Östermalm."
RAM: "Is it cool?"
Me: "There are some cool places, but I don't know. It's pretty expensive..." ('...and you don't really get that much for your money,' I was going to say, before he interrupted me.)
RAM: "Oh, well that's not a problem for me."
*crickets*

He ended his brief stay at the restaurant by tipping me five US dollars and leaving me his card with his cell phone number circled. The whole interaction felt weird. I can argue that I like the whole fortune-favors-the-bold-way of doing shit, since I (and probably most other culturally socially awkward Swedes) would never have the nerve to leave my number to someone just like that at a restaurant after having less than five minutes total of conversation going on, but I don't know if I like when it happens to me. It's very much a sense of 'Murricah'.

That being said, I'm going to take it as the compliment it was clearly meant to be, and just revel in the fact that I can be adorable in the most un-sexy work uniform known to man.