Fate is a bitch. It's apparently not a good idea for me to write about how my day is feeling a bit off kilter because apparently fate reads my blog and thought "oh ho! You think that's a shit day? THIS is a shit day!" It's really just little things but together they all add up to an atomic wedgie from the universe. For the second time this week I have had a fleeting yet traumatic glimpse of what the girl upstairs would look like in underwear if their door wasn't frosted. Frosted glass I love you!! A classful of kids at the library turned an in-out trip into a mission. I undercharged postage yet again on a sale. Etc etc.
Plus I think I'm sick. I have a c...c...c...cleaning bug. I've only got a mild dose (fates chuckling right about now) so far but it's enough to scare me. I've put the clean dishes away (I volunteeraly washed them yesterday, an early symptom of this affliction), washed, dried, folded and put away a full load of laundry. Yes, there is space on the bedroom floor folks. I've emptied Dave's undies and socks drawers of the stuff so ratty I wouldn't put it on a scarecrow - he'll probably want to wear it if he sees it's being thrown out, he's a total pack rat. Sometimes I vaguely worry that he'll turn into one of those creepy old people who has hoarded so much stuff that every room is full and you have to take a running push to get the door open.
Anyway, dishes, laundry, and now I'm actually off to do ironing and vacuuming. Yep, cleaning activities that require plugging things in and setting stuff up to do it. Send help, I'm starting to get worried now.
On the bright side I sat in the sun down near the shops and watched the freak show that is suburbia pass by. Since some of the individuals scare me a little I played it safe and took a photo of my feet. As you do.