Perfect Metaphor

Sometimes, despite your very best efforts to say "Quack, Quack" and remain impervious to the downward spiral that has greeted you since you awoke, your day just sucks.

Just now I had a brilliant metaphor for my day present itself. Due to the generally crocodile-ish quality of my hands in the winter, I decided yesterday to place a small tube of hand creme on my desk. This way, I figured, I could be smart (no jokes please) and apply the creme throughout the day, versus my general pattern of waiting until I get up from my chair/take a break- an event that occurs infrequently if the day is a work day.

A few moments ago I reached for the said tube and gave a little squeeze. A beautiful, perfect arc of creme, which if it had been an Olympic diver would have scored a perfect 10, ejected yet squarely missed my hand completely. Instead it fell, with a surprisingly audible "ploop" given the amount, into the crevices of my keyboard. Not on the top of my keyboard- between the keys.

Is it 5 PM yet?