This is where the day starts.
It wasn't a particularly memorable day, other than the fact that everything seemed to be going to hell.
It started a normal day, a crisp day break, steam rising from the streets as they are wont to do in the late spring. Jazz had gotten up early to continue working on what she swore would be her definitive college entry thesis (it seemed she wrote a new one every week.) Maddie woke up to prepare early pancakes and ectosamples, (cross contamination, a seeming non-issue.) Finally, Jack and Danny slept on, as was typical to a weekend morning, the former snoring magnificently and the latter running a small fever (which had started as a mild throat-head-stomach ache the day before.)
It wasn't until the 10 am Fenton Family Weekend alarm went off that Danny awoke in a cold-induced haze, a legendary stuffed nose, and a bleary outlook on life that the 'helluva day' the day promised started. Frankly the warning signs were all there, but such is the fate of those doomed to embarrassment.
Danny ate his slightly-glowing pancakes, dressed in slightly sweaty clothes and was out the door before anyone could remark on how pasty he looked, how unfocussed he seemed, or, most importantly, how he responded to various greetings with a stuffy and generally alarming "Goob Morbin."