The Precise Geometry of Getting Up

The office was a graveyard of ambition, punctuated only by the aggressive clacking of Brenda’s keyboard, a woman whose emails frequently included the phrase 'circle back' in bold. Arthur, meanwhile, was contemplating the structural integrity of his stapler.

“Morning, Arthur!” chirped Cheryl, the new hire, bustling past his cubicle. “Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed!”

Arthur paused, a frown marring his otherwise placid face. He slowly turned, peering over the top of his monitor. “Actually, Cheryl, my bed is positioned against the north wall. I entered it from the west side last night, and exited from the same west side this morning. There aren’t really ‘sides’ to a bed, per se, from which one ‘gets up’. Unless, of course, you are referring to the mattress itself, in which case both the top and bottom are technically sides, but one rarely ‘gets up’ from the bottom. That would be quite uncomfortable, and likely require considerable effort.”

Cheryl’s enthusiastic smile wavered, then flatlined. She blinked. “Right. Just… an expression.”

Arthur nodded sagely. “Indeed. A rather imprecise one, however. Much like 'raining cats and dogs'. I’ve yet to witness a meteorological event involving domesticated animals, regardless of their species.” He returned to his stapler, seemingly satisfied with his linguistic dissection, leaving Cheryl to ponder the precise geographical orientation of her own morning egress.