Lucky Day

The morning started with the 5:31 alarm screaming at me to get up while my brain reminded me of what kind of an idiot I am. The extra inning baseball game seemed like a good reason to have another beer or two. And when my team won, a victory beer was another good idea. I knew there wasn’t going to be much to do at work the next day so it should be easy to get through it without having much sleep. And what’s a minor hangover in the scheme of things?

5:40 – 5:40 – 5:40 – 5:40 – 5:40

It’s one snooze-hit later and I had to get up with about twenty minutes for preparation. Which is normally no problem except that I can’t get out of bed. A 34-year-old body requires more than five-plus hours of sleep. But I have no choice. A large cup of water, three ibuprofen and a semi-warm shower should do the trick. Getting dressed for work is always easy regardless of the thumping in my head. One of the nice things about the job is that jeans and a tee shirt are appropriate attire. Socks, dogs out, shoes, e-mail, dogs in and I’m ready to go. I kiss my sleeping wife and I’m out the door.

Following my traditional morning route I tell myself that I’m feeling pretty good. Within a couple of Mocha Doodles I’ll be in fine shape. Wait! Ouch! The sun has arrived. Morning has broken and screw you Cat Stevens. Where are my sunglasses? WHERE are my SUNGLASSES?!?! Crap. I wore them last night when we went to dinner and M drove. I must have left them on the computer desk. Double crap. Wait! I didn’t leave them on the desk – I left them on the back of my car. THIS CAR! CRAP!

I often leave my sunglasses and maybe the garage door opener on the back of my car. I always walk around my car to get in it so I never miss anything I put back there. Well almost never. How did I miss it this morning? Hangover. I’ve got to turn around and try to find them. There’s a chance, a very slim chance that I did not run over them and they’re sitting in the garage in perfect shape. Yeah, right. Wait – they could still be on the back on the car. I remember watching one of my friends drive for miles with a six-pack of beer on the roof of his car. Who was that? But beer is a lot heavier than sunglasses. There’s no way that a pair of sunglasses could have stayed on the back of my car. I’ve got to check and at the stop light up ahead I’m getting out.

The sunglasses were there, on the trunk, lying next to the garage opener.

It’s a lucky day.