This morning started out like many other mornings. I found it difficult to wake up when the alarm went off, and groggily decided it was a good idea to keep sleeping until I had only the exact amount of time needed to get ready for work. Scientifically calculated down to the last second, in conjunction with knowing that my alarm clock was set ahead of real time by five minutes (no one knows why), just in case.
Remembering that Tom had told me last night when he got home late that he hurt his ankle playing volleyball, I woke him up before leaving to check on him. That is when things started to go downhill. He could not bend it, put any weight on it, and screamed bloody murder when I tried to help him put a sock on his foot. (I’m not gonna lie, this part made me laugh a little bit). After testing it out a little more it was clear that he was in legitimate pain, and that I would be taking over the AM dog parenting responsibilities, plus handling garbage day responsibilities. These tasks had not been factored into my calculations. Even with the extra five minutes that exist outside of alarm clock world, I would be late for work. But that’s fine, not a big deal.
After making a plan to check in on the ankle around lunchtime, I said goodbye to Tom, and Guinness and I both hungrily ran downstairs just as we always do. Discovering we were out of dog food and had only one cup left, versus the normally allotted two, I rummaged through our resources and topped Guin off with some treats and two end-of-the-loaf crusts. I would go to Wegs later, the dog was ecstatic that it was bread day, and we were good to go. Ready to exit the house in no time flat. I threw my purse and keys into the car, let Guinness take care of business on his own while I took the garbage cans and recycling to the curb, let him back in the house, and felt very proud of myself for being so practical and efficient. I would be late, but the morning had almost been salvaged at this point.
When trying to get back into my car to finally leave for work, my car door would not open. To give a short backstory, this wasn’t completely out of the blue. The latch on my driver’s door has been acting up lately. But I had just opened the same door to set my purse in the car and it was fine. This morning was the first time the door had officially refused to open. I stood there for a second, tried the door a few more times, and weighed my options. Knowing that Tom was not in any condition to help, and I was already late, I walked around, got into the passenger’s side, and crawled over to my seat. Not ideal but still, in the grand scheme of things, not really a big deal.
I was on the road. It was raining, and Rochester drivers always struggle mightily with this extremely common weather condition. So after wading my way through stop and go traffic on 490 (that’s the 490 for any Buffalo readers), I was finally on 590 and up to cruising speed. I was about to crank up the music and put my sunglasses on. This exact moment, when I was going 65mph down the highway feeling cool, is when my driver side door decided to open. Completely unprovoked, the door pops open with gusto and starts flapping around in the wind. Kind of a big deal.
After receiving some alarming looks from other drivers and quickly realizing that sharing their sense of panic was not going to be beneficial to the situation, I leaned out, grabbed the handle, and held the door closed for the remainder of my trip. Without realizing it my brain decided it was not worth stopping alongside the highway in the rain, when I probably wasn’t going to be able to fix the door on my own anyway. So I kept driving. One hand on the wheel, the other keeping the door closed, all while trying to keep my anxiety prone self from spiraling out of control, and silently cursing Screenvision for relocating our office so far down 390.
By the time I crossed the threshold into my office I felt exhausted. I was stressed, tired, disappointed in myself for being late, worried about Tom’s ankle, and my own hand/arm was sore from holding my door closed with a death grip. To top it off I was starving and would not be eating my usual toast for breakfast as I had inadvertently, and literally, given away my last piece of bread. I needed coffee badly, so I went into the kitchen and found this waiting for me.
Imagine my surprise as I realized that while I was speeding down the highway with one door open, one of my co-workers had been setting up a toast bar for all of us to enjoy. Complete with topping options and a giant ‘toast’ sign. I obviously went right into his office to thank him, but I don’t think he actually knows that he made my day.
I know I have a lot of problems to solve throughout the rest of my day. Ankles, doors, dog food and a general grocery deficiency all await me. But right now, as I’m reveling in my fourth-piece-of-cinnamon-and-sugar-toast glory, I couldn’t be happier.