Do you every have one of those days when everything goes wrong? You get out of the wrong side of the bed in the middle of the night and step on to something wet and cold. Perhaps it’s a wet facecloth that escaped from the bathroom in a bid for freedom. It could happen. Couldn’t it? As you stand there trying desperately to ignore your expanding bladder you distinctly remember the retching noises your cat made that you chose to ignore as you were getting into bed. The midnight fairies won’t clean THAT up!
You stumble your way to the kitchen after a quick stop to take care of your business and there’s no power for the coffee maker. No coffee . . .NO COFFEE!!! No, don’t do it! Don’t ask if this day could get any worse . . .
You accept defeat. You have to get up in a few hours anyway so you might just as well start now. The coffee is set up to complete its morning task and a couple of slices of bread are placed in front of the toaster, a jar of peanut butter nestled close by. The breakfast of champions.
Next, a nice hot shower to clear the cobwebs from your brain. Clean hair, clean body, clean mind. Unfortunately, because your mind is still on the noxious substance you just scraped off your foot (What does that cat eat when you are not around?) you don’t notice the bar of soap lounging at the bottom of the shower. Well, you notice it when your big foot makes contact with it. You are surprised when you come to several minutes later and there are no police and/or paramedics in attendance. You distinctly remember a banshee screaming as your face abruptly connected with the floor. Bruised and battered you decide you can skip the shower just this once.
So you limp back to the kitchen only to discover the power to the coffee maker is still not on. It has been threatening to die for weeks and you really should have replaced it, but you didn’t. There will be no coffee here this morning. Toast without coffee? You can pick something up on the way to the office.
Your interest in the day is waning but you have a responsibility, a duty, to put your angst aside and show up for work on time. Your antics this morning notwithstanding it’s time to move. Daily ablutions completed you pat yourself on the back for coming through relatively unscathed. If you comb your hair just so, the bruising is barely noticeable.
Suitably attired you make your way to the garage and to the love of your life: it is small and beautiful and it purrs as it slides into second gear. Perhaps not a practical vehicle but you look fabulous in it! Ok, ok, so it is a little temperamental and stalls when it rains but the guy you bought it off swears that it is just getting used to a new driver and in a few weeks it will work perfectly.
As you turn the key for the fifth time you realize that the car is still not used to you. If it won’t start after five tries, it will not start today. Sigh.
And it is at that precise moment you make a horrifying discovery: today is Saturday. You don’t work on Saturdays!