My very, very, very good day
6:30 a.m.: Woke up alarmed to find my $250/month Verizon Fios Triple Play had died overnight, apparently due to widespread darkness. Without my morning dose of cable news and commentary, I had nothing to start my day angry about except the Google news feed on my phone. Happily, the Google algorithms give me the stress-making news I crave, so of course my personalized headlines were nothing but Trump this and Trump that.
8:00 a.m.: Dermatologist appointment. The medical building parking garage entrance was not backed up for 45 minutes by the usual long line of 1980s-era Buick LeSabres and 1990s Toyota Camrys favored by people a bit older than me struggling with the automated “smart” parking ticket kiosk like I already do.
8:20 a.m.: As the dermatologist explored the hills and vales of my hale and hearty pre-cadaver body (and a little too thoroughly toured my Netherlands, even for my libertine tastes), I tried to break the awkwardness by confessing I never use sunscreen. Delightful surprise: The dermatologist didn’t lecture me about sunscreen but kept on eviscerating the last shreds of dignity I continued to pathetically cling to.
10:00 a.m.: Back home, I called Uber to take me to work downtown because the city’s decrepit 1980s-era metro system suffers a chronic lack of infrastructure investment. Plus I’m paranoid about traveling underground especially when the normal 20-minute metro trip might take 24+ hours due to frequent electrical fires and rider deaths from smoke and body odor inhalation.
10:02 a.m.: The Uber app said my driver, Venkatanarasimharajuvaripeta in a black 1985 Toyota Corolla, would arrive in two minutes even before I could even finish saying his name. Guess what? He did! Instead of the usual two Uber minutes meaning 25 minutes after driver completed another trip and stopped at the nearest McDonald’s to grab a bite and use the restroom. “Venky” even had a candy bin with Skittles. Who said breakfast shouldn’t have dessert?
12:00 p.m.: At the office, stepping out for lunch to grab a fully loaded turkey wrap the size and weight of a healthy newborn infant, I found a shiny, lucky bitcoin on the sidewalk. I asked the sandwich place if they could break a bitcoin (at that moment, valued at $6,349.63) to pay for my lunch. No, but you can come back later, they said in a winky way.
12:20 p.m.: Planned to eat just half of the enormous turkey wrap but somehow, without realizing, crammed the whole 7.7 lbs. into my gaping, masticating maw plus a bag of Ruffles Loaded Bacon & Cheddar potato chips. It’s medically proven that sitting in an office chair for most of the day until your feet tingle, your blood pools, and as your Fitbit indicates, you’re technically comatose if not deceased, you’re more starved than an Olympic medalist training for gold; i.e., sponsorship dollars.
2:30 p.m.: Stood up, caught myself from collapsing from the blood-sugar cliff-dive after the lunch high, and staggered dizzily to the office break room for a snack. It’s a healthy company, with a vision, mission and purpose to advance global health and well being, so I was more than thrilled to find nothing in the kitchen but single-serving bags of raw almonds. What could be more satisfying than snacks that taste like gnawing a pencil?
5:00 p.m.: Finally! “Work” over. I called Uber to return home after a long blood-sugar roller-coaster day at the office and even some productivity. This time my Uber driver was Gadduthuribalchandradharshivganesh etc., etc., etc., who goes by the name of “Gaddi” and sometimes just “Steve”. He arrived in a silver-gray 1987 Toyota Corolla only 27 minutes late and seven blocks away from where Uber promised. No problem! Nothing could kill my perfect day.
6:40 p.m.: Arrived home from 10-minute Uber trip that took 60 minutes. I realized there’s no food in the house for dinner except for the savory crackers and aging bottle of aged balsamic reduction from a 2010 Christmas gift basket from my best and loving friends who lack gifting imagination or most likely, affection for me.
7:00 p.m.: I jumped in the car for Whole Foods. I parked between a tiny Prius hybrid with a Trump sticker and a giant Cadillac Escalade SUV with a Bernie sticker, proving that indeed, it’s possible to find a political middle ground. In the store, the fish were day-caught and planet- and species-sustainable even after a week of shriveling and toxin buildup, the avocados were rotted perfectly, and the pitted Kalamata olives I adore gave me the usual chuckle as I read the disclaimer on the label, “may contain pits.”
7:30 p.m.: Dinner time. Too tired now to cook, I let the Whole Foods I paid mortgage dollars for begin their inexorable journey to the trash and ordered delivery sushi via Grubhub. Sushi arrived at 7:15 p.m. How do they do that?!
9:00 p.m.: Bed time! I watched the 2018 Emmys broadcast and took smug, elitist pleasure from knowing I didn’t know any Emmy-nominated or awarded TV shows. Who the hell is this Henry Winkler?
Frankly, for perfect bedtime viewing, I usually only watch intelligent, thought-provoking documentaries about troubling issues such as the tragedy in Darfur or whatever’s got Michael Moore’s prodigious knickers twisting. Studies show watching depressing stuff before bed promotes the disturbing sleep our psyches need.
Still, when Michael Che gave the “reparations Emmy” to Jaleel White/Steve Urkel as the black nerd paving the way for Kanye West, Donald Glover and Barack Obama, and White/Urkel responded perfectly with, “Did I do that?” it was the most perfect close to the most perfect day.
I hope you have great days like this too!
Jeffrey Denny is a Washington writer