One Huge Lesson in Humility.

Weight loss is impossible. Life is impossible. Everything is impossible. Liv­ing in this world is impossible. Web search is impossible. Age­ing is impossible. Being a man is impossible. Help­ing women is impossible. Hav­ing in­ter­ac­tions with any other human is impossible. Par­ent­ing is impossible. Soft­ware is impossible, both to use but es­pe­cially to build. Calm­ing a whin­ing child is impossible. Keep­ing a clean and or­gan­ized home is impossible. Deal­ing with aging par­ents is impossible. That said, get­ting a sump pump de­livered to rural Mary­land in a hurry ahead of a hur­ricane is possible. Life is impossible. Weight loss is impossible. My chil­dren are whin­ing in the other room, mostly by daugh­ter today, who has awoken to also find that life is impossible, and whom I had to in­ter­rupt from her vain rev­er­ie in the bath­room mir­ror to in­sist she eat breakfast. I will shower now, and it will be a peace­ful shower, and then I will go about mak­ing the daily bread of 50 other souls, which is also impossible.

I went to Essen and in my de­sire to put syrup on my pan­cakes I squeezed too hard and shot out an en­tire bottle of syrup into my plastic tray and onto the floor. But not on my pants or anything. Boss, I said, I turned over this bottle and it shot out. But also come on Essen. I squeezed but what the fuck is wrong with your squeeze bottle. Any­way the prob­lem was solved and I walked away from the quart of syrup and left the place. It was mobbed. But all in all it went well. They lost $10 and learned a valu­able les­son about their squeeze bottles. And I was saved from myself. At which I came to work and it was OF­FICE BREAK­FAST had a half bagel and bacon and other things. Now there is cheese­cake for lunch. Do you know how badly I am fucked? How com­pletely I am fucked in ear, mouth, nose, and arm? My body is sore. My calves are sore. The en­tire world hates men. The whole world hates me. My em­ploy­ees hate me. It’s just a fuck­ing parade of hate. Everything is toxic stink­ing hate. I want to upend the cheese­cake into the open ori­fice in my stom­ach that is my second stomach, the hungry stomach. Fuck everything. Gast­ric bypass, I guess.