a deadly cup

6:00 AM Rustle through pantry to find something for breakfast. Observe the cupboards are bare, then remember that my last trip to the grocery store was approximately three weeks ago. Make mental note to man up and buy groceries soon. Find banana and call it breakfast.

10:00 AM Still hungry. Hit the drive-through window at Wendy's for a large chili and call it more breakfast.

10:45 AM Notice funny rumblings and vague churning sensation coming from my nether regions.

11:00 AM Realize that the thought "hurling might feel good" suddenly pops into my head in the middle of other thoughts. For example:

"Hi, I'm calling about our invoice which is 30 days overdue. When can we expect ~ it might be good to hurl ~ your check?"

"I wonder why this bank ~ it might feel good to hurl ~ statement doesn't balance"

11:05 AM: Hit the ladies room

11:15 AM: Hit the ladies room

11:45 AM: Hit the ladies room

12:05 PM: Hit the ladies room. Save time and energy by staying there. Determine there are precisely 3,284 little holes in the ceiling tiles of the ladies room.

2:30 PM: Bravely exit ladies room and collect bank deposit from desk. Announce I am going to bank to make deposit and shall not return

2:40 PM: Stop at gas station on way to bank. Inspect restroom.

2:50 PM: Make deposit. Count holes in ceiling tiles of bank restroom.

3:15 PM: Arrive home and set up camp in half bath downstairs. Catch up on reading six months' worth of magazines. Learn that Wii game consoles are predicted to be in short supply for Christmas giving.

4:00 PM to 6:15 PM Realize decor of downstairs half bath has been sadly neglected. Spend the next few hours in focused planning for new decor. Flip through old magazines for ideas.

6:45 PM Stare at junk crammed in bathroom vanity just beyond my reach. Realize vanity has apparently become something of a junk repository. Make plans for future decluttering project once it is safe to venture more than three inches from throne.

7:00 PM: Gingerly consume one-half can of tomato soup prepared by spouse.

7:05 PM: Marvel at how efficiently my digestive system processes tomato soup.

9:15 PM: Begin planning firebombing at the home of person responsible for cooking chili at the Wendy's on Jimmy Carter Boulevard. Calculate odds of doing hard time for the crime and determine there's not a jury on Earth that would convict me.

11:45 PM: Determine that I have successfully drained every ounce of fluid and food from my body, including fluid and food I haven't even consumed yet.

11:46 PM: Crawl in bed. Fall into instant exhausted sleep. Dream about shoving a perky kid with freckles and red pigtails into a boiling vat of bacteria-infested chili and holding her there until she dies a horrible and painful death.