As I'm preparing to leave the house for work, I remembered that I needed to empty out last night's dirty chicken wing oil from the deep frier (I cater as a side business). In doing so, I proceeded to dump the entire gallon of used frier oil all over the kitchen floor.
Well, it took me about 30 minutes to clean up that fucking Exxon Valdez, so now I'm running really late for work. I run to the car and head on off to the office.
As I'm on Blue Tooth describing this disaster to my wife, suddenly I realize my pants got splattered with some oil and I stink like a fried chicken wing oil slick.
Just then, BAM! I hit a crater in the road and spill coffee all over my shirt and pants.
Now, I'm a rancid potpourri of dirty chicken wing grease with travel mug coffee, and look like a failed modern art experiment. So, I text the office letting them know I'm gonna be another half hour, and stop at Wal-Mart to buy new pants and a polo shirt.
As I pull in, my iPhone rings. I assume it's my wife, and answer without looking at the caller ID. WRONG! It was a guy I was friends with years ago calling me out of the blue to tell me all about his miserable, never-ending, War-Of-The-Roses, divorce/custody battle that's now in it's 3rd year of litigation.
Finally, I get to work, change into my new clothes, and try going about the rest of my day as normally as possible.
Moral of the story: ALWAYS listen to Great Bright Morning by Casey Abrams when you wake up, because the consequences can be dire. Listen now, while you still have a a chance!