A week of failures (5/24)

Perhaps it’s spring, or maybe just that I’m a little bit of the nutty professor type. Am I in too much of a hurry, too stressed? Not getting enough sleep? Whatever the reason, this week has been a series of failures, culminating today in leaving my lunch on the train… or so I thought. It turns out that the reason I didn’t grab my lunch is that it was sitting on my faux-leather jacket—which I also left on the train this morning.

It’s funny though how time can lessen such “tragedies.” This morning, I was really angry that I had left my lunch, which consisted of a banana and last night’s pad thai leftovers, a value of perhaps $6. But there was a personal sting in having planned to eat at my desk whenever I wanted to do so and now not being able to. I stewed over it for at least three hours this morning, grumbling to friends over txts and chats. My anger was magnified by hunger, which the banana was supposed to mollify (that “side dish” was technically not lunch, but really a midmorning snack). And just when I’d put that anger to rest, it was lunch time, providing the opportunity to chastise myself again as I walked to Subway.

A Gorilla asks, "Have you seen my banana--about yay big?" while holding his hands out

Then, when I started packing up to leave early from work (thank God for small miracles), I couldn’t find my coat, which I knew I’d worn to the train. Did I grab it that morning? Obviously not, as its nonexistence in my office is answer enough. I must have left it, too, on the train.

I didn’t feel nearly as angry about my coat as I did my lunch, even though the coat is far more valuable (though more for style reasons than the $40 price tag). I shrugged and resigned myself to its absence, my spirits already rebounding a little. Perhaps this is the power of the human condition, its elastic ability to recover? Or perhaps I had already gotten my anger out, pushed the emotion to a natural exhaustion.

Another failure this week was my rather unfortunate first attempt at making buttered beer. The recipe is not all that hard, but when you make it without much thought, what you actually get is warm, sweetish beer with scrambled egg floating in it. Not my most appetizing dish. After straining out the egg, I tried my best to drink it down, but ultimately had to succumb to the realization that even the smell of cooked egg while you’re drinking beer is a little offputting.

scramegg +  LondonPride = meh

And so, here’s to a well-deserved weekend. I will Arrested Development with the best of them, while (hopefully) successfully Buttered Beering it up.