The cream cheese I opened with great anticipation this morning — had blueberries in it. I am a purist when it comes to cream cheese.
With neither Steve nor I nor any cat near it, Steve’s (full) coffee mug went over, soaking the tablecloth, Steve’s breakfast and the pile of side papers.
I completely lost track of the fact that there’s this thing called “temporal progression” by which our lives are ruled, and missed my yoga class.
The sixteen-year-old, Marden’s Special air conditioner is noisily dying the death.
The weatherbeans are calling 86F/30C and bad air today (though not as bad as the air along the southern coast, which wins its very own little orange warning triangle on Wunderground). See imminent death of air conditioner, above.
The item I expected to arrive in today’s mail. . .didn’t.
The business correspondence is stacking up, and I need one answer from someone who is not answering their email in order to deal with any of them.
The fluorescent bulb in the desk lamp is starting to flicker. And I don’t think I remembered to stock in a replacement bulb.
I need to file. No, I really need to file.
On the plus side, I did get it together to order in a ceramic cat fountain, which I’ve been meaning to do for months. Scrabble will be pleased.
We have a road trip coming up over the weekend, when it’s supposed to be cooler. That’ll be nice.
*From “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,” by Judith Viorst, one of my favorite stories ever, including as it does the most pathetic complaint in All of Literature: The cat wants to sleep with Anthony, not with me.