Optimist says: At least I'm not dead.

Look, I try to be a good person. I don’t get into bar fights. I don’t sell drugs to babies. I don’t drive an ice cream truck and I always try to return phone calls and stop at red lights. That is some kind of quality humanity, if you ask me. I mean, it’s true that sometimes I check myself out in the rearview mirror while I’m driving. On the freeway. And I’ve never seen an episode of Seinfeld. And I know the words to some Creed songs. But I don’t think that qualifies me for the kind of evil the universe has been serving me as of late.

It all started on an unsuspecting Monday morning when I, a bright-eyed youth, was filling up my sweet ride with gas. The little screen asked me a seemingly simple question: CAR WASH? I paused. Looked at my car and thought (like an idiot) why not? So I said to the little machine, “why yes! I would like a car wash!" (Note: I don’t usually talk to machinery. Wait, yes I do).

Now, you need to know something: I had just cleaned the inside of my car. I got out all the clutter, threw away the things I didn’t need and had generally revamped the interior of my car. I was feeling good. I was feeling in control of my life because my car was so clean and isn’t that the ideal way to measure the worth of your existence? Well, it is for me. And honey, I was golden.

So there I am, improving on my car even more when the unthinkable happened: the car wash started.

Now normally, this isn’t a problem.

But there was nothing normal about this day.

Because this day, I had left open my sunroof.

It wasn’t entirely open, but it was open enough to turn my car into a prison. A prison with no hope of escape.

Or survival.

I didn’t realize my misfortune until water started to pour on me from above. Then it was all screaming and swearing like a bunch of pirates getting held up in the back alley in the shady part of a seaside village. I tried to help the situation by pushing the button to close the sunroof but, in my superior genius that you are no doubt already well aware of, I opened the roof even more. At this point there was water pooling on the seats and my clothes were covered that soapy poison. I finally got it closed enough and then it was over as quickly as it had began. As if nothing had happened. I would have thought it a bad dream if there hadn’t been water everywhere. And let me tell you, there was water. And it was everywhere.

So, Universe, let me ask you one question: who do you think you are? I’m a good person! If I made any money, you better believe I would be paying my taxes like a champion. I drink tea regularly and have even tried to keep a plant alive! And I’ve only killed a pet on purpose once! One time! And that was because that fish was pure evil. I was really doing you a favor on that one, Universe. And how to you repay me? Did you think it was funny, seeing me get all those paper towels at the gas station to dry my seat? Did you love the sweet irony of my sun-roof having to be completely open for the rest of the day so my car could dry out? Did you sit out there amongst the stars and laugh? I bet your laugh sounds false and ignoble. I really bet it does. Well guess what I’m going to do? I’m going to go listen to some Creed and sing along. Loudly. And I hope you hate it.