Vox Nihilim

I was pretty sure from the moment I woke up that today was going to be six kinds of fucked. I have never before attempted to isolate these six degrees of morning fuckitude, but I shall do so now in pursuit of scientific breakthrough. Are there more than six? What is the glass ceiling in terms of fuckery? Let us investigate.

Level 1: Basic "I don't want to be awake" Fuckery - This is the kind most people have most mornings. When the alarm clock is blaring and it's cold outside and the covers are going out of their way to be warm. I mean, seriously...when you lie down at night they don't feel like that. What the hell happens to them in the night to make them all inviting and womb-y? Magic. That's what.

Level 2: Advanced Basic Fuckery or "Where the fuck are my glasses?" -  This happens to me at least once a week. I've finally pushed through the unwillingness to be vertical only to find that I've been turned into Velma from Scooby-doo during the night. I can almost see myself in her tight orange sweater and red miniskirt as I crawl along the edge of the bed, pawing at the rug and wondering if I should be yelling at the kids for this. Oh shut up, I have fantastic gams.

Level 3: Lower Middle Level Fuckery or "Bad things in the shower." - This happens every few weeks. The Girl has used 6 towels in order toassure maximum dryness, leaving exactly none in the bathroom. Now I'm not a female, but I THINK I've seen all the parts that they have. Is there some unknown area that requires six goddamn towels to dry it? What is there... a spigot somewhere that I don't know about?  Nothing feels better than a cold morning breeze shriveling the testicles whilst you try patting yourself off with a handtowel that only resembles "dry" in that it isn't made completely out of a liquid and which upon further inspection, appears to have been used as a kleenex by some filthy, soon-to-be-orphaned child.

Level 4: Middle Level "I swear to Kip....if there weren't laws about beating children." Fuckery - This one is among my personal favorites. They SEE that they are running late. They KNOW how tense you are getting. They UNDERSTAND that if you are late it makes you bitchy. Hey! Wouldn't this be a great time to start bickering over who was ready first? Or how about just calling the small, overtired sibling "Smelly Fruitfoot" for no good reason other than to see if you can make him cry? Wouldn't this be the best time for that? Why is Dad turning purple?

Level 5: Upper Mid-level Fuckery or "I hate my fucking car." - You're already late. You've almost come to terms with it and you are finally showing progress towards getting this piece of shit day off the ground. That's when you turn the car over and remember sitting in it the night before and thinking to yourself "Fuck it. I'll just get gas in the morning." or better yet, someone left the domelight on because broad daylight isn't goddamn bright enough for...you know... riding around in and now the battery is dead. It is at this point when you have to warn anyone near you to never, ever,ever speak to you again or else you are going to freak out and kill them. And no you aren't being metaphoric.

Level 6: "The coupe de grace." - We get the car moving because I know how to pop a clutch and live on a hill and then we head to the gas station to fill the tank. Everything is going fine. Everything is back on track. I breathe a sigh of relief as I get to the house. I turn the car off and try restarting it. It purrs to life. And by "purrs" I mean "makes ungodly loud and flatulent noises because I haven't gotten my exhaust fixed yet". I turn the car back off. The Girl's bus crests the hill and that's when she turns to me and says "Oh my GAWD! I forgot my backpack!" and bursts into tears. Level 6 baby....Level 6.