Normally, I like to wait until about noon to face the day’s failure. FailureS.
In fact, I try to put this knowledge off as long as possible. Some days I wait to learn what I’ve done wrong until it’s time to leave the office when I realize all the things I’ve forgotten to do. Usually with someone chasing me to the elevator saying “did you … ?”
Other times, helpful drivers point out my driving failures with a finger gesture on my way home.
On yet other days, I wait until I get home, where my husband, son, dog or the resident birds and squirrels can chip away at my self-esteem.
Today, since I woke up early (and learned that I picked the wrong lottery numbers by mistake), I treated myself to a nice breakfast. Eggs! And as I sat down to enjoy their yellow, fluffy goodness, I realized that I was a total failure. I made mistakes cooking my eggs.
It’s true. Huffington Post told me so — during my second bite, when I clicked on this article:
My own misteggs caught in my throat on the second bite.
It’s going to be a bad day.