Ever wake up in the morning and know, just KNOW, deep down in your guts, that it's gonna be a bad day? A day where you really should just stay in bed but you don't? And spend all day regretting that error in your judgement?
When I woke up this morning, I knew it was't going to be a good day.
My first clue was that I woke up in the tub, which was full of icecubes, with a tight feeling in my lower back, from surgical stitches.
My second clue was the writing on the bathroom tiles to my left: "Your kidney has been removed. Call 911."
My next clue that it was going to be a really bad day? The writing was my wife's, in her favourite lipstick shade.
I got to work this morning to find that the network was, unsurprisingly, down. I called IT, and got the following message: "You have reached Your Home Health's IT Department. I'm sorry, we can't come to the phone because Punjab just got a high score on World of Warcraft, and we're all getting drunk on Frito chips and Mountain Dew. Please try your call again later."
Oh yeah. It's gonna be a good day.