I was five blinks away from a blissful post-lunch coma this afternoon when my desk phone sounded a ring.

After a prolonged hesitation, I reached for the receiver.

Me: "Hello?"

Mom: "Hi Corey Boy."

Me: "Oh, hi Mom." 

Mom: "How's your day going?" 

Me: "Couldn't be better. How's yours?"

Mom: "Fantastic."

A pause. 

Me: "I'm lying."

Mom: "Me too. This day sucks."

Me: "Like a porn star."

Mom: "Or a Shop-Vac."

Me: "Or "Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen.""

Mom: "Or parking tickets."

Me: "Or soy bacon."

Mom: "Or the DMV."

Me: "Or paper cuts." 

Mom: "Or clowns."

Me: "Or long lines."

Mom: "Or car alarms."

Me: "Or cheap umbrellas." 

Mom: "Or campaign ads."

Me: "Or Ticketmaster surcharges."

Mom: "Or reality TV." 

Me: "Or untimed stoplights."

Mom: "Or brain freeze."

Me: "Or going back to work."

Mom: "Big time."

Me: "Love you."

Mom: "Love you too."