DOOM

Some days it feels like the Universe has taken a giant crap on your head.

I call these "Cry over Chicken Days."

This is a reference to a day in which the Universe decided to make me the butt of it's joke. I stepped in a puddle, I missed the elevator in Benedum (which, Pitt students will know, means waiting FOREVER to get another one), I was late for class because of the elevator, I had a pop quiz which I failed, and I was about thisclose to breaking down. But I prevailed, and finally made it home to make myself something to eat. I decided on chicken.

Mistake number one.

As I was taking the defrosted chicken from the microwave to the stove, the Universe decided that it wasn't done with me yet. I imagine the conversation went something like this:

Universe: Lisa, you fail at life.
Lisa: I'm sorry Universe! Just let me eat my chicken and then I'll retire to my bedroom and crawl into bed.
Universe: False. You should have never gotten out of bed this morning. You will not eat that chicken. You do not deserve that chicken.
DOOOOOOM.

And the chicken slid off the plate and onto the floor.

And I slid onto the floor and cried.

I'm not sure how exactly long I sat on the floor and cried. I know that I did not eat the chicken. I know that I ate a pop-tart instead and crawled into bed and lamented my epic failure for the day.

But there are just some days when all you can do is cry over chicken.

It's all right. Cry over that chicken. Let the Universe crap all over you.

Tomorrow will be better.

But tomorrow, I'll stick to beef.