“Woman Left Home with a Brown-eyed Man and I…”

I’ll admit that yesterday, upon saving the pork roast (which, for the record, included no garlic because we don’t have any in the house and I was hoping the garlic in the ketchup would do. I think it did okay, but you, America, should not be thwarted by my success.), I had half a mind to run around knocking on neighbors’ doors shouting “In your face” or singing a little song like “My porkroast is better than yours, damn right, it’s better than yours.  I could feed you, but you’ve got open sores.”  (See, and you thought there was no point to reading those posts about the open sores/Open Source guy and here it is, now, a little joke you can snicker at.)

But, I’ve got to tell you that yesterday, I had a day so quintessentially mine that I feel like, if I describe it to you, you will somehow come to know me better than you do.  So, here it is in short:

–Good morning to take the dog to the park; I told the Butcher he could take the car to work.

–Saved the pork roast; burned my boob

–Had more than enough Koolaid yarn to finish the body of the afghan but ran out of white when the boarder was a third done.

–Wanted to get to the yarn shop, but ended up instead fixing my toiled with a bobby pin and running the Butcher into East Nashville.

–Went to meet documentary film crew at local restaurant, turns out restaurant doesn’t serve beer (rectified that by byob-ing).

–Turns out restaurant seemed slightly uncomfortable with having the documentary crew there so we came back to my house, which looked like a girl had spent most of her day in her pajamas, weeding, fixing pork, and fixing a toilet with a bobby pin.

–The documentarians began to document the sweetest, most moving story ever, which was “enhanced” by the sound of Mrs. Wigglebottom gnawing on her very, very large bone.  I took her outside.

–After picking the Butcher up, I discovered I’d left the fridge door open since we got back from the restaurant.

–And the fucking bobby pin genius toilet fixing lasted, apparently, a whole total of eight hours.

And so I went to bed and was thinking about it all and I started laughing, which, let me tell you, is not a pleasant experience when you’re wearing the CPAP mask, because it lets in air through your mouth which means all the air being forced through your nose rushes out your mouth instead of down into your lungs, so you have this weird experience of feeling like you’re drowning, which seemed to me such a fitting end to my day that I laughed again and went to sleep and woke up to write this.