Some days start off bad and continue in the same vein until bedtime. I fear this may be one of them.
I let my son borrow my car yesterday and this morning I could not find the keys to it. I looked for almost an hour. Finally I decided perhaps they had somehow slipped under the lining in my purse. While trying to decide if that might be where they were – under the lining, I removed my cell phone. There they were! Hiding under the cell phone in that pocket of my purse.
I growled and fussed and grabbed my grocery list and headed for the store. Luckily I saw the police car parked off to the side and hidden in a church parking lot before he noticed me. I don’t usually speed, but feel instantly guilty when I see a police car parked somewhere. I take my foot off the accelerator but don’t touch the brakes in an effort to slow down without him noticing.
At the grocery store I found a soul sister who was as annoyed with where (top shelf) and how (stacked as high as a giant can reach) the cans of Fancy Feast cat food was placed on the shelves. She went in search of the store manager and together we told him what we thought of his display and where we went when we got tired of trying to reach those tiny cans. He’s going to try to put them on an endcap.
Got back here. Trying to write on my blogs and the dog went berserk like she does when someone is close to my house. I looked out front and saw a car stopped in the road in front of my house. The dog and I went out to investigate, and they sped away. Along came the mailman – you’d have to see what I’m wearing to know how upsetting that was . . . we hurried in the house before he saw me! I had the wooden door open so I could see when he’d gone by and he sneaked up in my carport and I was just asking the dog if those new trash bags I’d taken out of the box smelled as good to her as they did to me. “Here, smell of them,” I told her just as a flash of someone moving behind me caught my eye through the storm door. There was the mailman leaving a package on my carport steps while seeing me in this awful clean the house outfit and hearing me ask the dog if something smelled good to her? Well, it wasn’t as bad as the day he brought a letter I needed to sign for and when he knocked, I thought my son was back home and I hollered to the dog, “George is back!” and flung open the door only to have the dog tell the mailman how unhappy she was to see him. “You’re not George!” I told him and slammed the door shut. I still had to step out and sign for that letter I didn’t want in the first place.
But that was then and this is now. I’ve retrieved the mail, the package and come back in here to finish this blog. The day doesn’t appear to be getting any better, so I’m going to lie down and take a nap. Maybe when I wake up, it will be tomorrow, but I doubt it.