Bad mornings don't have to last all day

Overcoming a bad morning is difficult to accomplish. Overcoming a really bad morning is almost impossible. I was able to do so Monday, a feat that will help me get through future bad-morning days.
The morning started like any other morning. My 3-year-old son, Braden, woke me out of bed when he got up at 6:30 a.m. Knowing I had a lot to accomplish at work that day, I figured we’d speed things up. I gave him breakfast and got myself ready. When he was done with breakfast, I got him ready and we were off, nearly a half-hour earlier than normal.
Well, at least I thought we were off until I tried to open the garage door. The spring-action handle was broke, not allowing me to gain access to my car. I tried for 15 minutes to turn the handle enough to open it, to no avail, while Braden ran around the parking lot, oblivious to my problem.
After a callus started to form on my hand, I decided it was time to call for some help. One of the few advantages to living in an apartment is when you have a problem that needs fixing, a landlord is responsible for doing so. I called the apartment manager and he sent a person to the scene immediately.
Unfortunately, this person was as stumped as I was on how to open it. His solution was to call another maintenance worker, someone he said could fix anything. Since I didn’t know how long this was going to take, and I couldn’t call someone else to pick me up because I needed a car seat to take Braden to daycare, I went back to the apartment, prepared to work from home.
As I started preparing to do this, my doorbell rang; it was the other maintenance worker saying he got my garage door open. Big monkey wrenches work wonders, he said.
Late for work, I thanked him, grabbed Braden and took off. I ended up behind a bus on my journey, and normally they don’t bother me, but since I was already later than I wanted to be, every bus stop seemed an eternity. And I became really irritated at the bus stops where the kids weren’t there – leave without them if they don’t have the courtesy to be there on time.
After getting off the bus’ route, daycare and work seemed like clear targets. They became blurry again when I came to a railroad crossing with the world’s slowest and longest train crossing it. I’m sure I could have found an alternate route, but I figured I needed the time to collect myself as I watched each railcar cross the street, much like a little kid that looks each way three times before making a turtle-like assault to the other side.
By the time I got to Braden’s daycare, I was ready for him to put up a fight against me leaving him there, something he usually does if his favorite teacher isn’t there. Fortunately she was, making it the first fortunate thing to happen to me all morning.
I arrived at work an hour later than I wanted, with a full slate of articles in front of me that I needed to write by the end of the day. Normally, I could stay late and work until they were finished, but my in-laws were coming up that evening so I needed to be done by 5:30 p.m.
I was expecting my computer, an ancient beast that belongs in a museum for old computers, to give me problems, something it’s been doing for awhile now. I figured that would be my luck, given my terrible morning.
Lo and behold, my computer had a good day and allowed me to focus on writing the articles I needed to complete. I believe computers do have minds of their own, and this one knew that if it would have tested my patience that day it would have ended up out my window onto Church Street. The next day, knowing I wasn’t as irritable, it reverted to its old ways and acted up again.
I don’t remember much of the workday, except the end when all my articles were completed and ready for layout. I didn’t finish by 5:30 p.m., but my in-laws were late anyhow, allowing me to get home in time. We had a good time, making my bad morning a distant memory and giving me enough optimism to believe the next time I have a bad morning it doesn’t have to last all day.