So today I woke up late. This happens a lot. Because I’m a morning person in the same way Newt Gingrich is a reliable husband. But today I was really late; I hit my snooze button six times, which at nine-minute snooze intervals equals almost an entire hour of lost begging in the NPR fund drive.
And by the time I got myself dolled up for work and standing at my bus stop, it still took about 15 minutes for a bus to show up. Which means I had 15 minutes to take what is usually a 35-minute ride if I was going to make it to my morning staff meeting.
And then something weird happened: Our country elected an inarticulate, semi-literate, draft-dodging, opportunistically religious boob to be president two terms in a row. Oh, wait … that’s something weird that happened a couple years ago. The thing that happened this morning that was so weird is this: The bus climbed on Lake Shore Drive and went express a half a mile early. And then there was no traffic whatsoever to slow us down. And I actually made it to my staff meeting. I didn’t get my favorite chair, so the day is basically ruined, but my magical powers over space and time actually worked this morning and in a way I was rewarded for being a lazy, unmotivated slug.
And … um … that’s the end of my story. I wish I had something more interesting to share, but it’s all I got.
Except this: I didn’t get a seat on the bus, so if Rush Limbaugh was even there I didn’t have to sit next to him. So even though my hands are probably crawling with germs from holding on to the don’t-fall-over pole, my virtue—at least as far as being defiled by Drug-Addled Divorce Boy goes—remains intact.