The Most Depressing Day of the Year...
I heard that today was calculated to be the most depressing day of the year. I'm assuming the study was exaustive, and was meant to pertain to this particular date, and on top of that, probably has very little bearing on anything I'm about to mention, but the subtle ironies are what help jog us out of our unchanging little worlds for a bit, so...engage.
My wife got in an auto accident today. In reality, it was more of a minor shoving match on a watery stretch of highway, but the bruises show.
Tonight I proved that Saturns are in fact the cheapest things on the road by bending her hood back into place using lanky limbs and no leverage. I would like to say I had done it with my mind, but in truth, my mind wasn't prepared for anything more than scrawling something improper into the shiny plastic sidepanel.
This morning I got an email first thing--my boss had been made aware of on online request form that had been added to consistantly since last September, made up of people who wanted to get literature that would help them sell our product. In typical fashion, he passed it off to me, took no responsiblity for ever hearing of it or having been in a position where he ought to have heard of it. So I emailed an apology to 100 or so of our dealers and was treated to a variety of responses for the rest of the day, none too terribly caustic, but at that point, it would hardly have mattered, I think. Sometimes I wish somone would pass the ammo and praise the Lord.
Tonight my wife and I complained about the incestuous dynamic of the Southern Theatre scene, even though the bitter seed had begun growing long before either one of us set foot below the Mason Dixon line, and in complete lieu of the fact that either one of us would more than likely gladly don overalls and flannels and jump into the sack, theatrically speaking, if we had the chance as well.
I'm sure there was much more melancholy about today. Highlights include torrential rain, the sales guys' car dying on the exposed roof of the deck, the Team Leads daughter receiving 1st and 2nd degree burns from a dispute with a Cup O Soup, and another co-workers extended legal battle with a reprehensible human being who also happens to be her ex-husband.
Of course, I could probably write something similar on any given day. What makes today special, gives it that twinkle in its eye, is its distinction as being THE day for depression and calamity. And I shall rest fitfully, at least until the pm dot disappears on my clock, knowing that I made the most of the least of all days, and that, should something bizarre and horrific happen tomorrow, such as my arm falling off, I will not grimace or groan or say 'I knew it!', because tomorrow has the distinction of NOT being the most depressing day of the year, and in fact, marks the beginning of a stretch of 342 not-the-most-depressing-of-days days. And for that, I can finally, as the dinner sausage settles and the dread of 50 more colorful emails begins to dawn, crack the slightest of smiles, and relax...
My wife got in an auto accident today. In reality, it was more of a minor shoving match on a watery stretch of highway, but the bruises show.
Tonight I proved that Saturns are in fact the cheapest things on the road by bending her hood back into place using lanky limbs and no leverage. I would like to say I had done it with my mind, but in truth, my mind wasn't prepared for anything more than scrawling something improper into the shiny plastic sidepanel.
This morning I got an email first thing--my boss had been made aware of on online request form that had been added to consistantly since last September, made up of people who wanted to get literature that would help them sell our product. In typical fashion, he passed it off to me, took no responsiblity for ever hearing of it or having been in a position where he ought to have heard of it. So I emailed an apology to 100 or so of our dealers and was treated to a variety of responses for the rest of the day, none too terribly caustic, but at that point, it would hardly have mattered, I think. Sometimes I wish somone would pass the ammo and praise the Lord.
Tonight my wife and I complained about the incestuous dynamic of the Southern Theatre scene, even though the bitter seed had begun growing long before either one of us set foot below the Mason Dixon line, and in complete lieu of the fact that either one of us would more than likely gladly don overalls and flannels and jump into the sack, theatrically speaking, if we had the chance as well.
I'm sure there was much more melancholy about today. Highlights include torrential rain, the sales guys' car dying on the exposed roof of the deck, the Team Leads daughter receiving 1st and 2nd degree burns from a dispute with a Cup O Soup, and another co-workers extended legal battle with a reprehensible human being who also happens to be her ex-husband.
Of course, I could probably write something similar on any given day. What makes today special, gives it that twinkle in its eye, is its distinction as being THE day for depression and calamity. And I shall rest fitfully, at least until the pm dot disappears on my clock, knowing that I made the most of the least of all days, and that, should something bizarre and horrific happen tomorrow, such as my arm falling off, I will not grimace or groan or say 'I knew it!', because tomorrow has the distinction of NOT being the most depressing day of the year, and in fact, marks the beginning of a stretch of 342 not-the-most-depressing-of-days days. And for that, I can finally, as the dinner sausage settles and the dread of 50 more colorful emails begins to dawn, crack the slightest of smiles, and relax...
posted by Master of None at 9:26 PM
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