With a start, I jump out of bed, as my cellphone alarm clock is chirping some stupid, shitty, generic ringtone. "Goddamnit", I mutter to myself as the alarm reminds me it's a work day; and I have a little whiskey still in my system from the couple glasses I drank last night.
Shaking my head in disgust, I put on some shorts and stumble into the kitchen. Not surprisingly, the sweet smell of the combination of clean bed sheets and Heckyeahwoman gets t-boned by the almost daily morning cat feces, just outside the litterbox. Looking around, I whisper a "Not again, you fucker", directed at the cat, wherever she's hiding. I'll deal with that later, for now, I need something to eat.
Every morning, it's the same: I wake up, get pissed, see cat shit, get pissed again, eat cereal, drink a protein shake, dump, shower, and at some point I clean up the cat poop. This morning, however, was a little different.
Breakfast is finally prepared - time to plop down in front of the TV, turn on ESPN, and pretend to pay attention, as I fight back the tears.
Finally, a tear slips out of the corner of my eye as I realize I need to get a move on, and face the day. After choking down some shitty Kashi cereal with soy milk, and enjoying the shit out of my extra-double chocolatey protein shake, it's back to put my dishes on the counter.
Finally heading into the bathroom to clean myself up, I drop a quick deuce, and hop in the shower. Nothing noteworthy happens, other than maybe me smelling marginally better. Not even that gay loofah, nor the fruity body wash, can scrub away the apathy and disgust.
I've been showering in the morning before work for years. You'd think eventually I'd realize that if I take a hot shower, the entire bathroom is going to be steamy, and hotter than hell, while I brush my teeth and get ready for work.
Regardless, I sit there and sweat as I shave, brush my teeth, and dry my hair. Just another thing to piss me off. All sweaty and angry, I retreat to my bedroom to get dressed.
Crap, I forgot to pick up the cat poop. So I grabbed a couple paper towels and some disinfectant spray, and picked up the first of two turds. Damn, stinks worse today.
Tossed the first turd in the garbage.
On to the next fecal infidelity.
Right as my paper towel-covered hand reaches the second turd - gaaag.
Oh shit, this stinks. It's gagging me like I've never been gagged before. And now my stomach isn't right.
Kind of worried, I ran to the bathroom and dry heaved a couple more tim-oh shit here it comes.
Aw man, I puked all over the inside of the toilet bowl. You remember that extra double-chocolatey protein shake I drank for breakfast? Well I just undrank most of it.
And just like that, the black could of nausea fades; and I'm back, feelin' good, ready to wail on that fuckin' cat for her bowel indiscretion. "Here kitty kitty", I quietly sing out, with a devilish grin on my face. Lucky for her, she had other plans, as her cat-sense told her something was afoot, and the best place for her to be is under the bed, far far away from my reach. That, and I gotta get outta here, I'm running late.
Now numb to most everything, at least for the day, I bolt out the door, and head to the office.