jcabana has to catch a 7 A.M. train for work: what could possibly go wrong?

As mentioned in a previous post, I had to get up at 5:30 this morning

to catch a 7 am train to Wilmington for business.  those who know me

might remember that mornings and I don't get along.  I hate them, and

they clearly loathe me.  I move at half-speed, I take long showers,

and I am almost pathologically methodical.  I have pretty much come to

accept all this. 



in situations like this, I have to take some serious

precautions to avoid disaster. tickets? bought in advance and already

in my messenger bag. shower? taken the night before. clothes? my

wrinkle-resistant super 110s italian suit (men's wearhouse, baby! they

got good shit) was laid out, with a french-cuff shirt, monogrammed

links, a matching tie...even my t-shirt, matching socks and some

underwear were laid out.  breakfast? yogurts in the fridge.  alarm?

set. all systems go.



I woke up and averted the biggest danger by vaulting out of bed and

turning on my lights immediately.  a news check and number 2 later, I

grab my pants...and they are a bit wrinkled. wtf?! okay, just iron

them a bit.  you've got time.  and iron that shirt a bit, too.  I got

the board out, did the deed, grabbed my yogurts, rushed back upstairs,

changed, tied the tie, re-tied the tie, threw on the links and shoes,

and went downstairs. It's about 10 past 6. as long as I leave with 40

minutes to spare, it's all good for the walk to the metro and the metro ride to the station. I

see online that it's going to be the coldest day so far this winter,

so I grab my double-breasted wool overcoat. I open the front hall

closet to grab my hat and gloves...



...and they aren't there.



what.  the.  fuck.



I ALWAYS leave them here.  I put them here just last night. I move

shit around. I don't see them.



this closet also doubles as my roommate's closet because he lives in a

converted second living room.  so I open his door, and he wakes up. I

ask him very calmly where my hats and gloves are.  did he move

anything around in his closet late last night?



why yes he did, he responds slowly and groggily.  he shifted

everything to the left.



so I go back and dig.  underneath two boxes and a bag are my missing

hats.  I grab them all, and almost get crushed by a falling box with a

space heater in it.



at this point, it is 6:30. If I leave right now, i'd probably get to the station right at 7...but

the train would most likely leave right at 7.



FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!  all my well-laid plans were, once again, for naught. 

of all the days he had to choose to move shit around, he has to pick the ONE day

where I need all my stuff to be where I always leave it.  damn germans.



I scrambled out of my house and power-walked to 16th.  thankful that I

was wearing a suit, I hailed a cab.



"hi.  I need to get to union station as fast as you can get me there."  it's 6:35.



he takes my word for it.  fortunately, rush hour traffic was still

pretty light at this hour. I made it there at about 6:45.  I went to

grab a notepad and some tissues, then boarded my train at 6:55.  it

left on time, and here I am typing this on my pda.



these are my mornings.