The first time I squeezed a schmear of toothpaste onto my toothbrush and it fell off into the sink was the day I understood that I was cursed. I don't know who cursed me or why, but they're an asshole. Anyone who curses a seven year old kid can only be an asshole.
The curse: First, be late as hell. Then squeeze a schmear of toothpaste on the toothbrush. If it flops off into the sink, the rest of your day is screwed, and so it's been since the first time that shit happened.
Let me be clear for those of you who are all, bitch please; toothpaste doesn't have anything to do with the mystical and cosmic forces that rule this dimension.
The fuck it doesn't.
I have been late before. I have squeezed a schmear of toothpaste on my toothbrush and successful brushed my teeth before. I have done both of these things independently as well as jointly and been fine. FINE. It's the flopping of the schmear that makes the difference.
It flopped this morning and I knew in that instant that all was lost, but I was late, so I said fuck it and gave Glory a kiss before flying out the door.
Glory of the Clan with No Shame
I arrived to work thusly.
To be specific, I drove into the parking garage, parked on the 4th floor, got out of the car, stood waiting for the elevator with TWO OTHER PEOPLE, exited the parking garage, walked the block and a half to my office and arrived to work thusly.
I am not one of these people who keeps spare pairs of shoes under her desk.
There's a lesson here. I have no idea what it is, but I'm sure toothpaste is involved.