Matt Hazard

The only thing that I’m missing is a hand drawn sign that says “yikes”.

The other week, I put away the snowblower. You know, climate change and all. Immediately after coming into the house, the heavens opened up and blessed us with a heavy snowfall. And since then, it’s snowed three times. Dumpy snow, the kind that’ll make you put your winter tires back on kinda downfall.

Since the weather is back to freezing, I washed my truck. The next day it rained, and an entire season of road sand wound up on my windshield. It got cold again the day after, but I didn’t trust it. A full week goes by of cold again. Yesterday, I reluctantly washed my truck. Today it rained.

The lady at the drive-through window tells me to enjoy my meal. I respond saying, “You too.” She looks at me awkwardly. I try to recover by explaining that my love for coffee and bagels coupled with a hurried interaction in a checkout line has my head in a knot, and she’ll have to forgive me. It comes out “I love you.” Tires screeching, I leave the parking lot.

The dishwasher at work is broken, so I’m cleaning my salad bowl in the sink by hand. The sink is conveniently at crotch height. The water on the counter, being a kiniving escape artist, leaps from the counter onto my pants. As I’m trying to impossibly dry my pants with paper towels, my boss walks into the lunch room and sees me in all my glory. I say, “Oh, just a little accident.” He says nothing. I promptly leave the lunch room.

I get home from work, exhausted, into a snow-piled driveway with a dirty truck and ‘dried’ pants. My wife asks me how my day was. I tell her great. Smiling warmly, she tells me she’s ordering dinner for us tonight, and asks if Indian is ok. I smile back and tell her that sounds perfect. Deep down, I only want pizza.

Who needs enemies when we have ourselves.