I sprang from bed, all bold and brash,
Spilled coffee on my workday sash.
The bus drove off—my toast took flight,
The cat threw up with sheer delight.

My meeting link would not behave,
I smiled and waved… to the microwave.
Typed “due next week,” it read “adieu”—
Now half my team thinks that I’m through.

At lunch, I bit a mystery wrap,
Then learned it came from Steve’s mishap.
Still, days like this have charm, I guess—
A perfect storm, a floury mess.

I baked my cake with hope and flair,
Then found the eggs stuck in my hair.
The timer blinked, the batter set—
There’s no such thing as perfect yet.

• A Cake Baked Without Reading The Recipe by Jay Rose Ana