Apprehending a good day, regardless of how malformed its start

Posted by E-George on September 20, 2007

Some mornings just flow better than others. Take yesterday, for example. While we didn’t get up in time for our morning walk, we got up in plenty of time for me to make us both lunch and breakfast while Matt performed his morning ablutions, giving me plenty of time to perform my own whilst still getting to work on time. That was a good morning. Hot coffee. Hot breakfast. Easy traffic. All that good action.

This morning flowed much like the giant-est of all turds, lethargically lurching and winding its way through too-narrow plumbing. And, it started when I realized we had nothing prepared from the night before to serve as lunch material today. To compensate for my lack of planning yesterday took extra time today, so I figured peanut butter toast would serve as a sufficient breakfast. Into the toaster goes the Low Glycemic 59 KwG (KilowholeGrain) bread and out of the Fridge comes the peanut butter. But hark! Who could have guessed that the peanut butter jar was returned to its chilled tomb EMPTY. That means, there’s no peanut butter toast. And now there’s no time to make eggs. So, he who suffers me unto empty peanut butter jars gets only buttered toast for breakfast. But, butter (or, in this case, non-hydrogenated, trans-fat-free butter spread) can get onto the fingers, reducing the coefficient of friction, in turn compromising the ability to maintain a physical grip on things like, say, empty glass jars of peanut butter. On its path from the counter to the trash, the peanut butter jar slipped from my hand and fell to the floor, smashing into peanut-butter-coated glass bits which where then unevenly distributed across the tile. This is what we call in physics, gravitational mechanics. This is also what we in the housekeeping parlance call, a bitch. Now, the remaining time I could have used to make my own pathetic 59KwG buttered toast was spent sweeping up infinitesimally little glass shards and, in the process, smearing the floor with streaks of peanut butter.

I’m frustrated. I’m collecting my army of negative thoughts and putting on my cranky pants. I’m tooling up to eviscerate this day with a hateful vigor. Just as my brow commences locking into permafurrow, my husband, the valedictorian of dauntless optimism, gives me a grin and a sock to the shoulder and says, “I hope you have a great day, today.”

Geez. I guess I could. In fact, I will now. Thanks, honey.

Filed Under: Thank you, and GOOD NIGHT! - Comments:



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