Mourning my morning

Missing the train by seconds gives me time to curse, swear, and stomp my feet, then thoroughly critique my morning. Forgetting 20 minutes of alarms, I place the blame on three moments:

The neighbors’ phone drove me on a frantic search for my own, only to find it in my hand.

I gave my facial hair 3-minute pep talks both before and after my shower. I fear the hairs will only further rebel.

I was feeling too-cool-for-school to run for the train, even though everyone else did. They made it.

People need conclusions and scapegoats. I’m glad I found mine.