Failstravaganza

My day:

1. Wake up to alarm clock which claims it's 6:30. Subtract 21 minutes to calculate true time, as I intentionally set it differently at least once a week to throw myself off. Hope I didn't set it backward by accident. Hit snooze.

2. Wake up at 6:39 (a.k.a. 6:18). Hit snooze alarm and spent next four minutes debating whether to get out of bed. The nice, cozy, warm bed. Next to my beautiful wife. In favor of a cold room and getting ready for work? Not a difficult debate.

3. Fall asleep at 6:47. Get pissed at my clock for waking me up one minute later. Hit snooze alarm, decide it's best to arrive on time to work. Turn off clock. Remove CPAP. Remove heavy blanket. Shiver. Silently grumble.

4. Start shower water. Start sink water to soak CPAP mask. Make water. Flush.

5. Take shower. Figure out what day of the week it is, and whether I shampooed yesterday. Shave. Shampoo. Soap. Rinse. No repeat. Count to ten to force myself to turn off the water.

6. Dry off. Aggravate wife by turning on closet light. Internally question if she gets more annoyed by me turning on light or wearing navy shirts with black pants. Get dressed.

7. Brush hair. Brush teeth. Brush deodorant. No, that's not right. Smear deodorant. Better.

8. Pour cereal for boys. Pour one kind of milk in Justin's cup, but not in his bowl; pour different milk in Shu's bowl and cup. Decide to earn brownie points by restocking inside fridge with milk from garage fridge, so Les won't have to go into the garage barefoot. Wish I put my socks on. Realize I never get brownie points for stupid stuff like this. Reevaluate concept of brownie points.

9. Carry Justin to kitchen and deposit him in his chair. Giggle at Shu's bedhead. Hugs and kisses for both. Sparkling smiles in response. Beam with pride at fathering good boys.

10. Startle from Scooter banging on his bedroom door. Open it, pour him cereal and milk.

11. Gently kiss my gorgeous wife to inform her I'm leaving.

12. Drive to work. Fidget with sketchy radio, listen to bad pop songs for fear of losing all reception should I change the station.

13. Park in stadium lot. Walk 1.3 miles across lot and pedestrian bridge in sub-freezing temperature and blustery winds. Compile mental checklist of potential accomplishments. Forget most of them by the time I reach the office.

14. Oatmeal. No danish. No hot cocoa. No soda. Trying to eat healthy. Disbelieving my ability to make it through a single day.

15. Read comics. Laugh. Surf internet (whiskerino.org, 700level.com, wcdgc.com, avclub.com). Procrastinate. Handle small work jobs.

16. Glimpse sun. Feel warmth that doesn't compare to warmth I had in bed. Rue.

17. Finish stupid blog entry to attempt real writing for the day. It's now 9:15. I could probably split up my day into over 100 entries like these, but I'd rather have #18 as "finish Abe," the short story I've agonized over for months.

I could really use a danish. Or eight.