Little pricks

I couldn’t sleep. My head wouldn’t shut up so I didn’t get a very good night’s sleep.

I have three alarms to insure that I wake up in time to catch the bus. I have Alexa programmed to go off at 4:45 a.m. and then again at 4:50 a.m.

My husband’s alarm goes off with a annoyingly cheerful chirp at 5:00 a.m.

Except it didn’t.

I woke up at 5:26. SHIT. That means I can’t make the bus. Okay. No biggie; I’ll drive in.

I take a shower. No time to wash my hair. Throw clothes on, have some coffee and out the door.

I get to work. Notice there is a weird white smudge on my black pants. Damn.

My head feels like it is full of cotton. I can’t focus, can’t wake up. I feel like I’m running late even though I’m not.

I forgot to fill my thermos with coffee and figure that tea would suffice. I check my bag. All I have is decaf.

I figure a snack will help. I use up the last of my quarters to get a Snickers. I push the buttons and the vending machine vomits out a bag of peanuts.

I can’t eat peanuts.

Okay, that’s how we’re going to play this, Universe?

So, I laugh.

Lunchtime comes. I discover that I grabbed the wrong frozen dinner. It’s spicy meatballs and spinach. Fuck it. I microwave it, decide to take my chances.

I pull it out of the microwave….nope. There is NO WAY I can stomach this shit.

Fuck.

I push my bank account closer to the brink and go get a sandwich.

It was raining so I check to see if it has stopped. I look outside and no one is wearing jackets or carrying umbrellas. So I follow suit and leave my umbrella behind.

You see where this is going, right?

It’s raining. I’m wearing sandals.

So, I laugh.

Because sometimes that’s the only defense you have. Just laugh. Realize that you have no control. And it’s okay. This is nothing. It’s annoying but it’s nothing to get your shit in a bunch.

It’s just one of those weeks. I really shouldn’t complain. It’s not like there’s been anything majorly wrong. No one I love is dead. No one is sick. I don’t have any money in the bank but that’s not unusual. My car is running and I have enough gas to get me through until my next payday. My fridge is empty but my wine rack is full.

See? I really shouldn’t complain.

But it’s the little pricks that bring down a lifeboat.

All I have to do is open up my internet browser, check the news and see that my little pricks are nothing like the gaping wounds in so many other people’s hearts. Missing children, murdered loved ones, the sick and the dying, the hopeless.

What do they say? All it takes is a mosquito on your scrotum to teach you that violence isn’t the only way.

And a death by a thousand pricks isn’t the worst way to go.