Today’s Concern is the Plight of the Working Man.

 When the alarm clock rings in the morning it shortens a life by a few seconds.  It reaches it’s cold, heartless fingers into a healthy sleep and pulls the last 5 or 6 seconds of a life and throws them in the waste bin of eternity.  Not much, just a few seconds, but it adds up.  A person has no choice but to climb out of bed, after hitting the “snooze” button at least once.  Scientists are still debating if the snooze button alarm has the same effect, and experiments continue but it may take years.  Comfortable and warm the bed is like a loved ones hug, and life, once again, rips a person away, and throws them into the world.  Barely awake, hardly breathing, heart just warming up to it’s daily job of pushing blood through the body, a terrible thought races through the mind, “what if the coffee maker quit working?”  It is in those moments that the ability to pray returns.

Teeth brushed, hair combed, deodorized, anti-perspired, dressed, and ready for the day, sort of, the world calls.  But, it is a siren’s call, it lies in ambush, silently outside the door, barely able to suppress an evil giggle.

On the way to a car that won’t start are puddles, some of which are bottomless, barking dogs, which ones will

bite, rain, hail, sleet, and snow.  Is it Monday, again?  It is a windy, chilly, wet walk to the bus stop.

Finally, against all odds, work begins, daily toil, responsibility, the stuff of legends, sort of.  Except, the printer is out of toner, shoot, how does this always happen? 

Well, might as well get some coffee, see if there are any treats in the break room, yesterday there were bagels, and cream cheese.

Dang, no treats, and no coffee, either.  Why is the stupid thing always empty?!?!?!?!?  It doesn’t take long to make a pot, so, just wait there until it is finished, no cheating and taking the pot and letting it run right into the mug, either, screw that.  Just wait, right there, until it is done.

Lunch time is special, there is magic in lunch time, it passes more quickly than other time, but it carries power, and it is wonderful.  Unless someone steals your lunch.  Son of a bitch!  A pastrami and swiss with Dijon on marbled rye, salt and vinegar chips and a greek yogurt for desert, and someone took it.  Lunchtime from the vending machine is not the same, it doesn’t sparkle, it glares.   Those cookies had to be a year old, they looked like Dali’s clocks, and tasted like dust. 

Everything has to get better now, this has already been as bad as it can be, right?  Maybe not, the only seat left on the bus is right next to a person who smells like a corpse, and is eating something that has the pleasant aroma of carrion.  Curse the luck.

Walking home a ten dollar bill floats blissfully in front of you and clings to your leg.  Now that is some good luck.

“Hey Mom, I had a great day.  I found $10.00!”  And the phone call just gets better, the smiles are contagious.