Biscuit

It has taken me several years of experimentation to realize that the sausage biscuit is the best quick breakfast. Two delicious Jimmy Dean sausage patties cooked to perfection nested in a buttery Grands biscuit. Taken with a tall glass of OJ and you've got three of the major food groups read to go.

I'm getting ready to head out the door this morning and spend the day wasting my life at the J-O-B. Right when I'm about to get in the car and go, the sausage drops out of my sausage biscuit. I don't remember my reaction to this travesty exactly. I can see myself doing the slow motion yell as the sausage makes it's trip into the dirt, crashing loudly on my new sneakers leaving a greasy sausage print, before thundering to the Earth.

My day was ruined. How can I be expected to have a "good day" with this as a foundation? What good can happen when I can't even enjoy the simple pleasure of a sausage biscuit? This singular event has set the stage for a flood of horrible things to deluge me for the next 24 hours. I began to see images of the tragedies to come. I spend 2 hours making my 25 minute commute to work. My car overheats two blocks away from the job and during my walk the rest of the way to work I step on a nail. My boss throws drawing back on my desk telling me that they looked like trash and cost the company a huge contract. As I carried a torn cardboard boxes away with a pink slip sitting neatly on top of my personal possession, a bird shit lands on my shoulder. While the disgusting gooey shit streams down my shirt, it starts raining... while the sun is out. It's actually sprinklers coming on at the worse possible time.

Could this all be about to happen? I know I'm exaggerating because my job doesn't even have sprinklers outside, which is besides the point. Did I just receive my first warning of this downward spiral that my life is about to become? Did the sausage.. (bear with me a second)... did the sausage waiting deliciously in my biscuit somehow catch the front end of a wave of disaster sweeping into my life and get thrown to the ground as an omen of sorts? Will the reverberations become more and more obvious as they progressively worsen thanks to the pending catastrophy? Should I be preparing for the worse? If there is a storm building destined to obliterate the happiness I've built for myself? Who will take care of my wife and child? Now that I've been fore warned by the metaphysical "falling sausage" how can I in good conscious stay here and destroy the life of this precious child I'm bringing in the world? Will my son/daughter hate me for cursing them with a life laid bare by my own personal crisis? My own FINAL CRISIS?!!

Nah. That couldn't possibly be the case. I must be projecting my anxiety about parenthood onto a biscuit. That's pretty silly, right?

I think I'm just hungry.