'Cause we mostly didn't care
I woke up this morning at 6:45 a.m. It should have been 6:30, but it wasn't my fault, the alarm clock has a snooze feature. It works well. I put on my clothes from the day before because they still smelled of fabric softener and weren't very wrinkled. It's amazing the strides attained in laundry science, isn't it? I sauntered into the bathroom because I've never really tried to saunter, but I saw it once in a western book, maybe a Louis L'Amour book. It worked and I found a razor. It didn't, so I left the four day old growth right where it lay, not because I didn't want to shave, but the razor was dull. After turning on the television and finding my favorite yoga station, with the cute little Asian girl wrapping herself around her little finger I decided I should have breakfast. I poured the last of my cinnamon Life into the cat's bowl because the dishwasher was broken and it looked cleaner than my macaroni pot. As I reached for the milk in the refrigerator I noticed the cream had risen to the top of the milk. I shook the jug to homogenize the brew and poured it into my breakfast. After two or three bites the sourness overwhelmed my sleepy tongue and I realized the expiration date was really too small for tired eyes to read. I decided that stale bread might cleanse the palate. After attempting to decipher the cyptologic directions for making coffee, I decided that water might be more suited to my taste. How many cups are in an ounce anyway? Who knows that kind of stuff? It's coffee, not rocket science. Cocoa's easier. Put a packet in a cup of hot water. Do they make instant coffee like that? That would be cool. Oh, oh, how about cold water, that way I would'nt burn my lip on something hot, I'm so forgetful in the morning. That would be awesome! Yeah, like cold, sweet coffee that wouldn't leave a scar.
I brushed my teeth, only choking on the toothbrush twice this time. I don't remember a warning about a choking hazard. I'll have to research that later I guess. After starting the car to let it warm up I went back to the apartment to finish watching my exercise program, but the door was locked. What the hell? I went back out to the car, took the keys back and went back in to wait for the car to warm up. About fifteen minutes later (and two more little Asian cuties) I went out and climbed into my cold as hell Corolla that I knew had been warmed up. What a morning.
I had this feeling like it might not be a good day, but I didn't give much credence to it because the last seventeen or eighteen years had felt that way. I was debating just how bad it might get when some damn pedestrian shot through my front windshield. I had no idea this was going to happen, mind you. It just did. And I know I looked up in time to see the traffic light turn from yellow to red. They change so fast these days when you're in the middle of the intersections. I decided to ignore him since he didn't ask for a ride and he obviously didn't like my taste in morning radio DJ's. After two more shorter than usual traffic lights and some difficulty manuevering around a stopped school bus in my neighborhood I crawled in to work, two hours later than normal. I really must send a letter out to my congressman about the increase in rush hour traffic. After I figure out if I can vote and what district I'm in. Never mind, probably won't make any difference anyway.
I tried photocopying some forms for distribution, but after only printing a light grey ghost image of a sheet of paper, I figured it might look more professional if I wrote it out in longhand. I forgot how to write a "z" in cursive, so I scrapped the idea around noon for lunch. I was sure with the way my day felt like it was going lunch could be a disaster, but after waiting only 35 minutes for security to help the cafeteria ladies put out grease fire from my hamburger order, lunch was actually pretty innocuous.
I stayed late at work, mostly because the analog clock in my cubicle had stopped with the little hand on the two and a half and the long pointy one at the seven. I hate analog. So at 8:15 p.m. according to my Armitron calculator watch, I packed up my little blue Walmart bag. My briefcase still sat next to my desk because apparently there is a combination that someone at the mall neglected to give out when they took my 95 dollars. I made my way out to my car after throwing a hat rack through a hallway door to reach the lock to unlock it and I'll be damned if that hitchhiker wasn't still waiting for me.
I started the car and debated going back in to get some dinner from the vending machine. My stove quit working about a week or so ago, so I kind of had to get my meals elsewhere. Oddly enough, the dishwasher had quit the same day. I figured with the amount of grease built up on the stove, the best way to remove it would be to pressurewash it. So after renting one from my local hardware emporium I return to my abode and cleaned my appliances. The oven first because it was filthy and might take longer to clean. I guess there is such a thing as too clean. I'm not sure what happened to the dishwasher, it being a dishwasher couldn't get much cleaner, could it? It could and it did. There was all kinds of packing foam in that thing, you'd have thought they were just trying to bulk it up and sell it for more money.
Because the piercing screams emanating from work were arousing people I figured dinner could wait. Driving home I noticed the lack of change in the traffic light changing frequency from rush hour to prime time. Damned if two cars didn't try to hit me broadside as I passed through the intersections. Don't they know to stop when my light is red? My travel companion muttered or moaned something I couldn't comrehend, I think he muttered "Pinto beans" or moaned "Help me", but I had the radio turned up to drown out the blinking light on my dash and couldn't really catch it.
I knew the day wasn't going to be right when the car quit rolling. I figured the blinking light on the dash might be the culprit, so I decided to ask my friend. He had no idea there were even lights on the dashboard. He said he only saw a bright light so I moved the cigarette lighter out of his face. I figured there had to be a book, so after removing everything from my trunk and and under my seats I found it in the last place I looked. Under the hood with the registration and an old insurance slip I got from the dealer a couple years ago. I like to keep them in the little black box on top of the engine where the filter for the air conditioning was I believe. At least that's what I remember in driver's education class. Well, believe it or not, after perusing that tome for about 20 minutes I found the meaning of the blinking light. No gas. That couldn't have been right, I filled it up Monday last week.
Since I could read the numbers on my apartment door I decided to deal with the fuel consumption dilemma in the morrow. I tried to unlock the door only to discover the similarities in the numbers 6 and 9 I had never noticed before. No bother, I found my apartment door already open and waiting for me. Unfortunately, the light in the hall had apparently blown out so I fished through the pockets of my new buddy's jacket I had borrowed and found a pack of matches. Oddly enough, after lighting three of four and tossing them on the floor for illumination I found nothing in my apartment, including the light in the hall. I could not remember scheduling a house cleaning so I went to my bedroom and cuddled up with my ridesharing friend, who at this time was starting to catch a chill. Hopefully tomorrow will bring a sunnier day. Good night.