It is 5:20 pm. I left work at 5, with plans to come home and mow at least part of the yard. In the twenty minutes since I left the asylum, I have experienced an exploding boil upon the tenderest of lady parts, been poked in the boob with a hand saw, had a Christmas tree fall on my head and come dangerously close to getting my head stuck in the closet door while bent over in the booty nookie position.
Sometimes The Universe says, "I've got your back," but sometimes? Sometimes it says, "Screw the mowing, lay your ass down before you kill yourself."