Django walked past me this morning, gave me a harsh look, and kept moving until he stationed himself resolutely on the dining room rug. And glared at me. Intuitively, I knew. He shit in the back room. The turd. (Please note: I cleaned the litter box yesterday.)
I got a text from Mallory: the furnace is leaking. Excellent. The humidifier is on the fritz, and I have to call the HVAC guys. Luckily, my dad can sit with Ralph while he checks the humidifier, and I can pray that it’s a quick fix – possibly covered by a warranty. (Please note: Our heating and air guys at Another Heating and Air are spectacular.)
And finally, after arriving to school through the rain, my umbrella broke. It flipped inside-out due to the wind, I got wet, and then – after flipping it right-side-back – it wouldn’t close. Defying all good luck / bad luck vibes, I walked the hallways with a fully opened umbrella. (Please note: I *just* went through the coat closet and got rid of all of the broken umbrellas, or so I thought.)
All of that happened before 8:00 AM today. I should’ve stayed in bed. I could’ve gotten a good start on the next book I’m excited to read: The Resisters by Gish Jen. Should’ve. Could’ve.
“Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday mornin’ you gave me no warnin’ of what was to be…”
shelly. walston. writes. 