what we call a good start

Full night's rest, assisted with chemicals to stave off what I thought might be the beginnings of a bug.

Woke feeling refreshed and pretty solid. It's a Friday. it's a payday. No pain in any muscles and parts, so martial arts class remains a strong possibility.

A little Black Blood of the Earth to counter the nefarious after-effects of Nyquil and I'm off to work.

And the goddamn garage door won't open. Won't just not-open, it unleashes a terrible, caterwauling wail.

I can't get my car out of the goddamn garage.

Much swearing later as I try to use my limited knowledge of my building's garage door diagnostics (FSM help me, I typed that and I meant that....). Nope. My car is not leaving this garage today.

More swearing. It's wet outside. I really don't want to ride my goddamn bike to work.

A half hour later, I'm at my office, quite damp from a heavy mist that flirts with sprinkling. My brakes are wet and make a ridiculous noise. I haven't ridden a bike in months and... yeah. I'm not moving fast, thanks to under-utilized muscles and the knowledge that my bike is not going to stop quickly thanks to the wet roads and my wet brakes.

The sun isn't even up yet. Chaos in my in-box. I have a sinking feeling my direct deposit might have gotten mangled, meaning there's a chance something might bounce. Thanks to the fact I'm bike riding today, I can't accomplish what I wanted to accomplish after work 'cause it will take me too long to get from work to where I need to be within a specific time-frame.

Yeah. Today's lookin' great so far.