Yesterday was not a good day. From a purely selfish standpoint.
First, I sliced open my finger on some cardboard at work. And by finger, I mean the flesh right under my finger nail. I still don’t know how I did it. Now it hurts to type. And I bled all over some boxes at work. Which is always nice for someone to stumble across. Let’s be perfectly honest, paper (or in this case cardboard) cuts are annoying. But they are not enough to make for a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. And certainly not enough to make me want to move to Australia as Judith Viorst might have you believe. But come on now, it wasn’t just a cardboard cut.
I made it through the rest of my work day without injuring myself further. And then I came home. I wanted dinner. And began ravaging my cupboards looking for something quick to eat. When I do this, I have a tendency to leave food out on the counters. For hours on end. I have a tendency to not put my dishes away. For hours on end. I have a tendency to leave cupboard doors open. For hours on end.
And it was because of this that I managed to walk smack dab into a cupboard door. Leading with my head. In an anger reserved only for those embarrassing moments when you are pissed at yourself, I slammed the cupboard door shut. Only to realize I wanted more food from the cupboard. So I opened it again. And walked away.
When I wandered into the kitchen next time, well, you know exactly what happened. I slammed my head against the cupboard door again. I am an idiot. Now we are getting closer to a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day and a subsequent move to Australia.
But it got even worse.
I had been sporting a full beard for a while. Usually I just go with the goatee but I was feeling mountainous. And awesome. And the beard was awesome. I’m not going to lie to you.
However, to celebrate the spring I decided it was time to trim it up. And by trim I mean use my beard clippers on the shortest setting. This was the equivalent of shaving for me. A full beard and sun usually makes for a sweaty neck. And no one likes sweaty necks. So off it came.
Because of the strange set-up of electricity in my bathroom, I have to use an extra converter to make my beard trimmer work. So I am using a Swedish converter on an already Swedish plug. It works well. Except my converter is old. And sometimes gets stuck with only the metal part in the outlet.
As we have already established, I am an idiot. And reached up to pull it out. I know electricity is not good for me. I know. But I have not learned. Suddenly, I had electricity coursing through my body. I felt it in my brain. The sad thing, after letting out an involuntary scream, which was of course, very manly, my first thought was not to my safety. Instead, I wondered if I may have gained some sort of super power. As of yet, I have not.
But that was it. That was enough. I started looking for tickets to Australia. I hear people never have Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days down there.
Welcome to Sweden. And my Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.