My day in a million...years by Iza Deleanu This Sentence Starts The Story contest entry |
Let me tell you about my day: it started with a heroic battle against my alarm clock, which, despite my best efforts to ignore it, won by sheer persistence. Fine, I took my sorry ass out of the embrace of the night. I finally got up, tripped over my cat (who was not sorry), and proceeded to make coffee that tasted suspiciously like defeat. It was a comedy of errors, but I as usual I was the star. With caffeine barely holding my life together, I got dressed in record time—only to realize, halfway out the door, that my shirt was inside out. Fine, no big deal. I fixed it. Then, while sprinting to catch the bus, I managed to step directly into what I hoped was just a puddle. Of course it was not just a puddle. It was a puddle that seemed to have been waiting for me, strategically placed to ruin my day. When I got to work, I was already questioning my life choices. My boss asked if I had “a minute,” which is never a good sign. I sent an email to all employees instead of just accounting, informing them that “their outstanding balance must be paid immediately, or I will be forced to take drastic measures.” My dramatic side really shined through on that one. Lunchtime came, and I was ready for a small win. I ordered a salad, trying to be healthy. But the universe laughed in my face when the lid popped off my dressing container, baptizing me in balsamic vinegar. Now, I smelled like a walking Italian restaurant. The afternoon dragged on, but finally, it was time to leave. Just as I stepped outside, it started raining. No umbrella, of course. I stood there, soaking wet, looking like a rejected prince not-so -charming from a tragic romance movie, thinking, Yep, this checks out. But hey, I made it home, kicked off my soggy shoes, and poured myself a glass of wine the size of my problems. So, all in all? A standard day in my life of me. But you know what? I survived, and that's what matters.
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Iza Deleanu
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