I woke up today and I didn’t want to go to work. So I said to myself “Self, figure out how to not go to work AND get paid today.”

Thank science for PTO time.

I slept two hours later than usual, and was on my way to have lunch with my pal Jordan when I found out what kind of man I am: midwestern.

See, my tire hit something in the road or had a slow leak or something, but it popped and went flat. So I had to pull over and change my tire. If I were like Dave Barry, I’d be writing about how hard and difficult it was, how much I hate getting dirty, and bitching about why I couldn’t just pay someone to change it for me.

But I’m not like Dave Barry.

I pulled my tire iron and jack out and was glad that I paid attention when my dad’s truck blew a tire when I was twelve. I went to work on that sucker, and 20 minutes later had the spare tire on, the old tire on the back, the jack folded up in my back seat, and went and enjoyed a well deserved lunch buffet at Valentino’s.

Tonight, feeling inspired, I went and cleaned my car out, finally removed and assembled my bike from the back end, filled my tires to their correct 35 lbs of air, and replaced my thoroughly beaten floor mats.

I’m on a goddamn roll. Nothing can stop me. Don’t even try. I’ll take you out.


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