I woke up late.

I know that’s how most bad days start. It’s so cliché. But I really did. (Somehow I still managed to get to work earlier than I often do, so that was a tiny, but confusing, miracle to make my day better.)

I’ve lost my checkbook. I don’t lose things: I have a cool, Japanese, mechanical pencil that my brother-in-law gave me when I was in 5th grade (and it is still my pencil of choice when I’m using one); I have a gold necklace that my brother gave me when I turned 8 (which I also wore for my high school yearbook picture because he told me that’s what he wanted me to do with it when he gave it to me). Obsessive? Maybe. But it may help you see why losing my checkbook might distress me (aside from the obvious reasons).

I got yelled at by my boss. I’m not saying that I am completely innocent, because you don’t USUALLY get that kind of reaction with complete innocence. But I FELT like I was completely innocent.

When I got home from work, I opened my washer/dryer/utility closet to get… something. (A forgotten detail.) But what I found was that some epoxy (which I purchased a year and a half ago to remove the glue residue off my walls after I [read: my super-awesome friend] ripped off some hideous wood paneling) decided today was a good day to burst free. I sympathized – we all want to do that from time to time. (Maybe especially on days like this.) Its “bursting,” however, seemed more like a persistent drip… drip… drip… from the lower left-hand seam of the can and my sympathy (empathy?) was not enough to make me happy about the consequences of its choice: paint removal from the shelf it was stored on and much of the paint on my clothes washer. After a huge (and long!) sigh and possibly an “Aw! Man! (or maybe an “Oh! Man!”), I put my head on the remaining painted portion of my clothes washer and started laughing. (I’d be lying if I said it was completely amused.) I reminded myself that it is just a thing – and the problem is cosmetic, at that. What really counts is what’s on the inside. (Something I should probably remember to say about myself. This message brought to you by the Dove “Real Beauty” campaign. That was so 3-years ago; I know.)

So, I closed the closet door, put my coat back on, and went out the door for my Wednesday night plans. Because I think that paint puddle will still be bubbled on top of my washer in the morning. And the rest of the day was waiting.