Sometimes what starts out as a perfect and beautiful day full of optimism and hope can take a turn for the worse. Sometimes it only takes a few scant seconds.

I woke up first. Stealthily I slipped out of the covers like a ninja lynx. I tiptoed across the room. My wife was zonked and she needed to sleep in. With God as my witness I vowed to do my part.

On the bedroom doorknob hung the finest shirt that I owned. I have this annoying habit of putting shirts on knobs rather than hanging them up. It drives my wife nuts. I had worn it to a funeral the day before. My Sunday best consists of a black short-sleeved button-up shirt, the only blue jeans I own without holes in the knees, white socks and a pair of sneakers. Yep, that’s as good as it gets.

I wanted to keep noise out of the bedroom but I couldn’t close the door all the way because of the cats. They show great magic at doors that are closed to them and that would undoubtedly wake her up. So I gently nudged the door so it was mostly closed to help keep out light and noise.

In a good mood, I then proceeded to start my day. Little did I know it was already too late. The berg had already been struck. I just didn’t know it yet.

A few seconds later and my wife was up. What the hell?!

“What are you doing awake, my Queen?” I politely inquired.

“The cats were in the bedroom and they couldn’t get out.”

Oh shit.

“But I left the door cracked just so that wouldn’t happen, my love.”

“Your goddamned shirt was in the way. They couldn’t get out.”

Oh shit.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not all,” she added.

I was filled with dread.

“They shredded your shirt.”

And, sometimes, that’s all it takes. Get out of bed and the hammer of life comes down hard and bone-crushingly shatters you, your dreams and even your shirt.

I looked at my watch. I’d been awake for 42 seconds.

Good times.