Work

I had to take a break from writing my great American novel. I have to do this thing called 'going to work'. And that's like 5 days a week. I get up at 6AM have coffee read the paper load the dishwasher, feed the animals, pack my lunch, eat breakfast, walk the dog, get dressed and jump in the car and head south but first I have to spend most of my paycheck to fill up the gas tank and then head south again, weave in and out of traffic take a shortcut to miss the backlog of an accident on my usual route and get caught in parking lot traffic on the freeway, mumble to myself, turn the radio up louder and feel like that was surely not the way to go and finally get out of one mess and get caught up in another traffic jam and watch all the rad racer drivers around me go crazy and fast and drive on the shoulder, honk their horns, yack on the cell phone and just be plain obnoxious, so I get to work only five minutes late and try to make up time grab my coffee cup from the holder by the top only and slip from my car and ooops the cup was not connected to the lid and there goes the semi hot coffee all over my jacket, try to clean off the mess with a white paper towel but all the lint sticks out like a sore thumb on my navy blue jacket so I say 'oh well' and hurry to my desk and log on or try to log on to the computer but the internet is down so I can't access my files then they call me to cover the front desk while the receptionist does whatever and the internet is still down and my lesson plans and progress reports are not completed and they were only due yesterday my headache begins and it isn't even time for bed so the day was pretty much the same as my spilt coffee and then I get to leave and fight the traffic all the way back home by now the sun has disappeared and it's dark and the lights twinkle in my eye causing my contacts confusion so it doubles everything I see including headlights I pull in the driveway and hope the thump wasn't the neighbor kids bike left in my driveway again and so what if it is except for I think it's stuck under the car, I walk in the house drop my stuff on the floor and there is Mr. Wonderful with his great smile and dinner on the stove I blow him kisses walk by the cat sitting on the counter and she slaps at me for some reason or another who knows with her attitude, I eat my dinner walk the dog unload the dishwasher, read the paper again clean up the dog mess that was hidden from sight flop on the couch, fight Mr Wonderful for the remote, give up, stumble into the bedroom and wait for the new day to begin all over again. So perhaps on the weekend I can continue with my great American novel.