Coquetting Tarradiddles

Because I Could Not Stop for Death, He Kindly Ruined My Day

First off, spoilers: I made it to work on time. Okay, but here’s what happened, though.

I started the day by sleeping through my alarm and been awoken by the gentle sounds of my wife SCREAMING AT EVERYONE. So that was nice.

Then, I went to get something to wear out of the dryer since laundry day was yesterday, and I realized the last load we did last night was the one with all my clothes in it, which we subsequently forgot to switch over to the dryer before going to bed.

So, yeah. All my work clothes were wet.

Undaunted, I ran upstairs to find something, anything at all, to wear and ended up grabbing a pair of jeans I would soon discover had a broken zipper. After digging through literally everything else I own, I finally settled on a ratty old pair of jeans I wear for yard work that have a giant hole in the knee.

I then proceeded to take some boxers and socks out of the socks-and-boxers drawer and head downstairs. Literally. I headed down the stairs.

Lemme explain…

We have two dogs and, while downstairs has hardwood, everything upstairs is carpeted. Although the dogs are both house trained, my wife has a deathly fear of one of them happily trotting up the stairs to pee and I guess mark the thermostat as theirs or whatever, so they’re not allowed up without supervision.

Which brings me to The Barrier.

Its construction is comprised of an old printer box and laundry hamper turned on its side to provide full blockage for the dogs, who can, of course, easily shove it aside whenever they want to, but usually don’t. It’s basically Trump’s border wall, only slightly more effective.

Trey and I hate The Barrier. HATE IT. However, you have to make certain compromises when engaged in domestic endeavors with others, so we tolerate its existence even as complain and whine about it constantly.

And with good reason! Take this morning, for example. While attempting to circumvent said Barrier on my way back downstairs, my right foot – coincidentally attached to the same leg wearing the jeans with a hole in the knee – caught the edge of the laundry hamper component of the Barrier’s questionable construction, and down I went.

I tumbled, Aunt Bunny style, down the remaining five or six stairs before coming to a gentle stop by way of crashing head-first into the front door.

Hearing all this, my wife proceeded to run to my side and begin asking me, repeatedly, if I was okay, which is a ridiculous question to ask a middle age dude who just tumbled down the stairs and broke his fall by way of his head smacking into a metal door, but whatever. It was a nice gesture.

I pulled myself up and grabbed my shoes, which is when I discovered that one of the socks from the pair I’d grabbed from the back of the drawer had a hole in the toe, for some reason.

Now here I am, sitting at my desk at work while wearing a ratty old pair of jeans and a sock with a hole in the toe while my clothes remain wet and in the washer since I don’t like leaving the house with the dryer running unattended, and all I want is for it not to be Monday.

When I get home, I’ll have to rewash the clothes that have been sitting there beginning to smell of mildew (whether they actually do or not is irrelevant because I’ll think they do, regardless), but at least there will be pot roast for dinner.

FOOD IS MY ONLY COMFORT NOW.

So anyway, that’s how my morning went. How’s your day going?