I’m starting to think that I must have been running around drop kicking puppies into vats of boiling oil in a past life given how this week has gone.
Monday morning, I woke up feeling great. Optimistic. Good about life. I’d had a great weekend that had run the gamut from hot nerd talk on Friday to a massage on Sunday. School is done, feeling good, gonna get caught up on everything I ignored over the course of the school year, summer is going to be great, get some good mo going into the fall, get shit on track. Life is good.
Well, the Universe overheard me and she started laughing hysterically, did a shot of absinthe and said, “Well, I have my work cut out for me this week.”
Monday was fine enough, had some trouble getting my brain to shut off long enough to get anything else done, but not too bad. Tuesday I managed to walk into a box in the living room with a rather spectacular amount of velocity resulting in a nicely damaged foot. (No running for me this week!) Wednesday ended up being dedicated more to reading than anything else, cause damn, I did a number on that foot.
Then yesterday happened. Managed to get things done, but not without some fun and games. The dryer died. With a load of wet towels in it. Not a showstopper dammit, repairman coming out today. Then a couple hours later I had a filling fall out. Awesome!! And then – just to round out the day properly – I left my jacket at the pool hall last night…
I suspect there is a lesson about keeping expectations low in here somewhere, but I refuse to acknowledge it.