How do you know you’re having a bad day?
At 11:00, I went to Steak and Shake. Because I hadn’t yet had breakfast. Because I wanted a fountain Cherry Coke. And, well, because.
Sometimes, because is the only reason that matters.
When the man handed the small bag through the window, I thanked him, having already drank half my Cherry Coke. But then as I started to pull away, he hollered, waving his hands frantically.
Of course, I hit my brakes, looking around me for the reason of his sudden alarm.
He had given me the wrong sack.
And I knew my day was on the upswing.
Because I hadn’t left the restaurant without my food. And I, most likely, by accident, had been given a hamburger. And I don’t like hamburgers, but I like returning to a restaurant even less.
And the guy behind me in line hadn’t plowed into my tailgate when I hit my brakes.
And that’s when you know you’re having a bad day — when nothing happening is the best part of your waking hours.
Maybe tomorrow nothing will happen all day.
If we can all only be so lucky.