Hot Mess

I have a tendency to spill things. The other day, while enjoying my tea, an item in my cupboard caught my eye. I set down my mug, opened the cupboard, reached toward the item, it fell off the shelf, hit and broke a glass bowl full of nuts, then rolled over to the mug, knocked it over, and my tea went everywhere.

 

The next morning, since I was running late by other people’s standards and on time by mine, I didn’t have time to make tea nor did I have time to stop for coffee. I met the guys in the main lobby of the office and they advised that because we were going to be working with youth they were going to change their names to something cool, like J-Red and B-Rye. I didn’t have a name and, as previously mentioned, I didn’t have a coffee, so I decided to head to the cafeteria to get one.

 

I got my coffee, spruced it up a bit with one of every creamer I could find, and then put the lid on. Well, I tried, anyway. As soon as I pushed down on the lid the side of the coffee cup gave out and coffee sprayed all over my cream jacket and amazingly saucy gloves. I hadn’t even been out and about for more than five minutes and I’d already dirtied an outfit – or, more appropriately, creamed an outfit.

 

I grabbed a new cup, started over, and returned to the guys as though nothing happened. That worked really well, for about one minute, until they noticed my jacket. Once they realized what happened, my ‘cool’ name became, ‘Hot Mess.’

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