On a Thursday morning, drinking coffee.
I woke up late, a rarety, and fumbled out of my bed clothes and made my way to the shower. No hot water. Again. Damn water heater. After an unsatisfactory shower, I toweled off and made my way to the vanity. After putting in my contact lenses, brushing my teeth and applying lotion to my face, I moved to the vanity. A plethora of toiletries greeted me – Polo Black after shave, mouthwash, Oil of Olay (it can help you look younger too), Redken Polish Up and host of Aveda products – but no deodorant. I knew I forgot something at Target. And, between the emotional trauma of the hot water and the deodorant debacles, I left the house without my coffee.
Like a demon spawn from Hell, I weaved and bobbed in and out of traffic to get to work, honking at every moron and idiot to cross my path.
I pulled into the parking garage and made a swift path to my office. I put my stuff down, and made my way over to the kitchen for my coffee. I stopped. Horrified, I read the sign, “Out of order.”