I seriously considered the day behind me.

I mean—seriously—did the shrimpy, obnoxiously red Kia Forte have to jump in my lane at the last possible second, forcing me to slaughter my new brakes and throttle coffee into my chest? It’s not as though he didn’t have time to get his caboose into the lane behind me. Footballs fields of glorious empty roads stretched behind my own tail-end, but apparently that wasn’t action-packed enough for Mr. Forte.

Then, as I calmed myself enough to walk into the office, my ultra-serious boss decided to hold an ultra-serious meeting. His deadpanned eyes met my grim ones, his stern line of a mouth said, “I want you to give the presentation today instead of Wednesday. The big boys are here. Be ready in twenty.”

My day got a whole lot more serious. I nodded dutifully, nervously, and gravely. The presentation in question, at the moment had no slides, only verbatim. Minus the very important conclusion.

Those next twenty minutes were spent writing and drawing on scraps of poster-board within my office. My computer, the usual mechanism for slide-creation, was due for repairs on Tuesday; today was Monday. It was a very serious situation, but resulted in a less than adequately serious presentation.

My boss’s countenance assumed an uncharacteristic vermillion, a seriously agitated quality. “Why are your slides on poster board? This isn’t the elementary school craft fair!”

My voice ceased and lips began twitching; control over my expression was relinquished. I thought of the Kia Forte, risking life and death for a thrill.

“Merida! This is a very serious presentation, this is unacceptable…”

My voice decided to revisit me just then. “With all due respect, sir, you are a very serious pain in the…”

Driving home, newly jobless, I approached an intersection, cut in front of a Sedan, then totaled my car.

As I considered these events more seriously, my decision seemed less appealing. Perhaps some things, such as cars and jobs, were serious for a reason…