I really, really hate Legos.

Little nubs and sharp corners that perfectly fit right into the center of the bottom of

your foot causing a stabbing agony that lingers for the rest of the day every step.

My sign and I woke up 45 minutes late this morning.

The very first thing I see upon opening my bedroom door is a hardwood minefield of discarded

Legos in the hallway.

I step over most of them gingerly, but my impatience with getting a move on gets the best of

me.

The second to last Lego impales the arch of my foot, assaulting my nerve ending with a lightning

bolt of pain.

Through a gritted teeth, I walk up to my son and help him rush to get ready for school.

I prepare the coffee maker and get all the way to the last step when I'm warmfully realize.

Am I a drinking water?

My kiddo gets on his bus, I get in my car and we go our separate ways for the day.

I grab a lukewarm unsatisfying cup of coffee at the drive through cafe and continue to

drive to work.

Things should all be better once I get there.

That promotion's as good as mine.

I've already started spending my sign on bonus already.

I'll be so happy and proud to tell my son that his dad got a new job.

He deserved a better life.

Nice things.

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