A Morning Straight out of German Hell

5:15 am: During our morning jog, The Wife’s iPod suddenly refuses to play “Everything You See,” by Portugal The Man. It skips every few seconds, but plays perfectly on my iPhone; an obvious indicator I am somehow to blame.

5:30 am: Halfway through the jog, The Wife trips on a tree root, nearly falling to the ground. The crisp morning air is now rife with German swear words.

7:35 am: During our morning commute, I miss the exit for my workplace, thinking I first need to drive The Wife all the way to her workplace, as is our normal routine. The radio is now eclipsed by English swear words.

7:36 am: I miss the second exit for my workplace, which would have immediately solved the problem. The radio is now off, and I have fallen dangerously silent.

7:45 am: We arrive at my workplace, where I exit the vehicle so The Wife can drive to her workplace, late as balls.

7:50 am: My iPhone rings — The Wife is still in the parking lot, unable to attach our TomTom to the windshield in order to navigate through the wonderfuck maze that is Beaverton, OR.

8:15 am: Neither one of us is able to attach the TomTom; it seems to have lost its suction. And if anyone is thinking, “That’s what she said,” I swear to God I will come find you and kick you right in the hemorrhoids.

8:35 am: I deliver The Wife to her workplace. Tempers are high. Goodbye kisses are laced with frustration and danger sprinkles.

8:55 am: I return to work, only to be reminded I am expected in a teleconference and I only have 1 hour to read the preparation material and form halfway intelligent questions for the client. My coffee tastes like baby toots.

9:15 am: Reading preparation material so fast my eyes are bleeding. Co-workers have stopped talking to me. I recall the last thing my wife said to me in the parking lot — “Himmel, arsch und Zwirn!” — and though I do not know what it means, it shrivels my bacon bits.

9:30 am: The Wife calls me from her office phone, informing me her phone card has run out of minutes — she will be unable to tell me when I need to pick her up after work from the Max station. Co-workers are now sliding their chairs away from me.

10:30 am: I spend the rest of the morning writing a very important, very delicate press release. Somehow, my fingers sneak f-bombs between every fifth word. My body is now my enemy.

12:00 pm: I emerge from a blackout fugue state to find I am naked, my office is on fire and my co-workers are huddled together in the far corner of the room. The fire department is taking an axe to the front door and the police are yelling at me through a loud speaker in the parking lot. My press release, however, is entirely finished, and it is … breathtaking.

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I hope you have a better day then we did!

— OGM