Insert Expletive Here

I hate today.

I try not to use the word "hate" all that often, as I am somewhat of a flake, and also, it's just way too passionate to describe any feeling that I'm usually experiencing. Yes, I realize that makes me sound incredibly dull, but I'm not, really. Just well-medicated.

But today, I hate. I woke up this morning, full of hate for my uncomfortable bed. My small, lumpy, narrow, "twin" bed. First of all, why do they call it a twin? There is certainly no room for twins in my bed - this is empirically proven evidence. I hate inappropriately named household items. I thrashed around in my shitty, misnamed bed trying to get comfy, because I actually got to sleep later than 4:45am this morning. This was not as exciting as it sounds, because it meant that I was once again unemployed and doing nothing more constructive than perfecting a method for soft-poaching eggs and figuring out which hours of the day are meant for bourbon and which are meant for coffee. On my seventh round of rolling over, I rolled too far and smashed my half-asleep face into my ancient, stained, and splinter-ridden bedside table. I hate my bedside table. I did not want to start my day at 5:15 by washing blood out of my pillows and picking splinters out of my face. It just didn't seem fair.

After removing the last remnant of tree from my upper lip, I stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee. I reached for the ugly, chipped, rooster container that I have stored my coffee in for the last decade and promptly knocked it onto the floor. I watched it bounce, barely miss the cat, and splinter into a thousand tiny, sock-piercing shards, spilling coffee all over my recently-mopped kitchen floor. Because the aforementioned floor was recently mopped and because I am serious addict, I considered licking the floor for longer than I'm comfortable admiting. During this time of contemplation, the cat capitalized on the opportunity to fulfill it's deepest desire in life of "rolling in shit as often as possible". Before I could construct a complete profane sentance, the feline commenced it's manic writhing on the kitchen floor. In the coffee. And the glass. I hate my cat. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you need to both pick glass out of and bathe a cat before 7am, just walk away. I'm serious. Just leave. It's so not worth it. Especially with no coffee. I hate coffee. (I'm sorry coffee. I didn't mean it. Please don't leave me, lover.)

Resigned to the fact that instant coffee was my only option, I grabbed a cup and headed for the shower. I cranked the water as high as it would go, put a lid on my coffee cup, and stepped into the blissful, blistering hot water. It was approximately four-and-a-half seconds later I realized I was still wearing my pajamas. In the shower. I hate my shower.

I finished showering (and no, I didn't bother to take my pajamas off), and wandered to the kitchen to get another cup of revolting coffee, hairdryer in tow. I padded into the kitchen, stepped on a shard of ugly broken rooster canister, and dropped my hair dryer in the sink full of soapy water.

It was at this point in the day (approximately 7:45am) that I gave up on anything redeeming happening in the near future, and proceeded to break out the bourbon and the serious profanity.

It was a damn good thing, too.

I was out of bandaids. My cat had once again stolen my hairbrush and my eyeglasses, and hidden them places unknown. My other cat peed in my running shoes. My deoderant broke into 20tiny,useless pieces. My watch died. I deleted the most recent copy of my resume. I choked on a Tootsie Roll Pop (don't ask me how). I burnt two-and-a-half batches of corn bread. I ate two-and-a-half other batches of cornbread. I burnt myself. I stepped on a slug with my bare, paper-towel bandaged foot. The power went out. I ran out of bourbon and was forced to drink scotch. I ran out of candles. My iPhone battery died. I couldn't dry my pajamas in the dryer. I couldn't make dinner. I couldn't google "poisonous slugs of BC". I could only sit in the dark, drinking scotch, eating cornbread, and, above all, hating today.