Trying to Get to Work (Or How David Became a Wife-Beater). All David is trying to do is get to work. But things keep delaying him, standing in his way, messing him up. The blanket is caught around his right foot as he tries to shut off his cellular phone's alarm. When he kicked the blanket off his foot and crawled over his sleeping wife, he stepped on a book about Bigfoot - funny, he thought. Though he wasn't thinking about the irony, only the deliberate disregard Anne showed for his present crisis. Anne, in fact, had not considered the impact of her setting the book on the floor by the bed. Anne, graceful in every way except book placement, was a cute and beautiful woman; at times one or the other, often both at once, a rarity. Her appearance had recently, yesterday morning, undergone an undue transformation when she stumbled coming up the front steps to their apartment. Among the few bruises and discolorations the fall had produced, one on each shin, one on her right wrist, the dark-purple mark on her left eye eye was the most noticeable. Lucky for her, being heavily sedated, she did not hear any of the curses David was mumbling. As he turned off his phone's alarm, which slipped out of his hand and onto the floor on his first attempt, he looked at his sleeping wife. He is slightly upset she had fallen. Later in the day, 15 minutes later to be exact, he will feel deeply sorry, but for now he is only upset by her continual clumsiness. He has ten minutes. With this in mind he starts for the bathroom.

Why do I always have to piss the second I get up, he thought. As he urinated, he considered the possibility that he was diabetic, but was interrupted by his cat peering over the brim of the toilet, captivated be the stream, half-so by the source.

"I'm gonna pee all over you, Jeff. Move."

He had named the cat Jeff because he thought names like Jeff, Scott, or Christopher were hilarious and somewhat ironic names for animals. Anne had wanted 'Tux' because he was a black cat with one half-dollar size white spot on his chest, like a tuxedo. They flipped a DVD case: David and Bill Murray, sitting on a hotel bed, won.

"Do you want my piss all over your face?"

Jeff lifted his paws off the brim, stood erect for a second and then gently placed his paws on the tiled floor. At the sound of the lever's click and concurrent fooosh!, Jeff ran out of the bathroom with a desperate and frightened meow. This made David upset because he knew that Jeff would soon be getting in his way. And he only had 5 minutes. Why did I set my alarm for twenty-til, he thought? And why is this cabinet so difficult to open? He brushed his teeth with added speed now that the cabinet had delayed him. I will probably have to cook breakfast this morning, he thought. He preferred doing prep work. David worked at a diner three short blocks away. He placed his toothbrush in its spot. A drop of water fell from the bristles onto his right thumb, upsetting him. He headed for his dresser, stepping on white and teal colored pebbles of cat litter.

He threw on a white shirt, which was not clean, and so took it off and threw it towards a set of white mesh bags. He missed. He went to pick up the shirt, Jeff attacked his right foot, he kicked Jeff, Jeff ran into the bedroom, mEeoowwww, he put the shirt in the bag. The next shirt was inside-out but clean. He took the shirt off, heard Jeff pushing the lid off Anne's box of clothes, yelled Hey!, heard meoww and hurried flam-footsteps, and pulled the shirt over his head.

"Dammit Jeff, if I'm late..."

He couldn't find his checkered pants. He was about to scream, when he saw they were in a mesh bag on the sofa. It was the very bag that caused Anne's fall. His fingers, dry from dish-washing, got caught on the fabric of the bag as he pulled out the pants, one of four pairs, which all had the same smell of cooked food and dishwater. He remembered telling Anne not to mix his pants or work shirt with their other clothes, but she hadn't. He was about to wake her up when he heard his phone vibrate. He ignored it and his idea to wake Anne and instead went to the kitchen to grab a granola bar for his ride to work. Jeff managed to walk in front of him, in spite of David's telling him to move and his kicking.

"Jeff...Jeff"

He couldn't get the granola bar out of the box as fast as he wanted because one of the top flaps was closed, restricting his mobility. He grabbed the box with his left hand and ripped his right hand from the box as it clutched a s'mores granola bar. Two granola bars fell to the floor in the process and he quickly picked them up and put them back in the box, which was just as difficult for him as the initial action. He kicked the bottom of the fridge and two pictures in magnetic frames fell to the floor. They were both of David and Anne, one taken when Anne has just come back from Europe and David had a beard, the other taken when they were in Berkeley, with Amoeba Music as the background. He picked these up and threw them on the table. He had to leave right then to get there in time. He put the granola bar in his pocket, heard the phone again and again ignored it. As he took his hand out of his pocket a small piece of yellow paper fell out. He looked down at it. He remembered what the note had said, before it had gone in the wash: TUES BREAKFAST. Shit, he thought. The owner of the diner, his wife and the manager's wife were all eating at the restaurant this morning. He was supposed to get there early.

"byeiloveyou," he said as he stepped out the door.

But he had forgotten his keys. And he had locked the door.

He knocked.

But Anne was out. He knocked harder, slower, he smacked hard with the palm of his hand; his knocks became in sync with words: ANNE! OPENUP! DAMMITANNE! OPENUP! He kicked, he listened, he kicked and knocked and listened.

Nothing.

The house phone was ringing now. Probably Sam, his manager, wondering where the hell he was. My cell phone, he thought. He had left that inside, next to his keys, and could have used it to call Sam, or possibly woke Anne by calling her cell phone which was by the bed - unlike their home phone which was in the living room. That's when he punched the door. It was almost a reflex, but there was the thought that the door deserved his anger, his frustration, his underlying sadness. He would later relive the unbearable pain of this moment when the orthopedic set his bone - the 5th metacarpal to be exact - in place for the cast he would wear for 5 weeks. He fell to his knees and held his right hand and cried. His vision turned to black, then white, and he saw the door to his apartment open and Anne, in a concerned state. She hurriedly stooped down and asked David what happened, putting her bruised hand on his downcast head. David's shoulders began a crescendo of tremors that plateaued into a sway of his torso comingled with barely audible mumbling. Anne thought she heard the words sorry and god. Then there was silence. Anne held David in her arms, while David held his right hand to his chest. David looked up at his wife, at the dark-purple mark below her left eye that was streaked with tears.

"What are people gonna think?" said David.

Anne looked at David gently and her eyes laughed. David laughed reluctantly, the type of laughter that sounds more like nose clearing and loud breathing. Jeff, who had been purring and rubbing himself against the two of them, let out a pathetic and drawn-out meow. David and Anne laughed together again.  ¶ 12:15 PM