Sometimes life is just one bad act after another. The morning began bad and just got worse. The back door had blown open during the storm last night and everything that could get blown by wind was divested all over the kitchen and dining room. The calendar was sitting in the sink half-submerged in cold, greasy dishwater, the sticky notes were strewn everywhere and one was even stuck on the ceiling over the refrigerator. That one said "remember Nov 12". The weekly grocery ads were mostly in the trash can where they should have gone last week and a flyswatter was sticking swatter-end up between the flour and sugar canisters.
The entire 3-inch pile of notes he was keeping on the dining room table littered every other square inch of dining and kitchen area. All those months of careful, meticulous, and painstaking bit of work was now papering a living space that should have consisted of carpet and paint and floor tile.
He stepped gingerly over the strewn papers to the sink and carefully lifted the calendar out of the mucky dishwater. November 12. Yeah. And so it starts.
