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.
I hope you have a better day then we did!
Two things: First, German women swearing in German is hot. Possibly dangerous, but still hot.
Second, I’m sorry your life sucks so hard sometimes. My suggested remedy is two liters of Dunkel Bier.
HAW HAW! German women swearing in German is pretty hot… unless it’s directed at you. Then it’s scary.
Und ja, dunkel Bier ist sehr gut, Herr Theophilus.