An accounting of the first five minutes of my day follows.
Waking up in a chair overlooking the sun rising over Puget Sound. "Man. It's gonna be a good day."
Stretching in same chair. "Calf cramp! Calf cramp! FUUUUUUU-oh god, there goes the other one! This is gonna be a bad day."
Walking downstairs to find Dex wagging her tail furiously at me. "Good day."
Stepping in puke at the bottom of the stairs. "Bad day."
Checking email. My only meeting is optional. "Great day!"
Pulling on fleece that still smells of last night's bonfire. "Mmmm, good day."
Walking in kitchen and seeing carnage from last night's party. "Bad day."
Preparing shower and remembering that my only deodorant is that completely ineffectual Tom's of Maine crap that makes me smell like Bourbon Street after a rain, if it were raining bong water. "Bad day."
Accidentally dropping the Tom's into the toilet. "I'm conflicted."