Re-reading the post about the Gala, I should make myself write “Two bee oar knot too bee might be spelled right, but it is still wrong.” About 50 times. Ah, well, fixed. And embarrassed. Doubtless missed something. Been that kind of day.

Ugh. And, for good measure, bah.

This morning has Officially put me in a Foul Mood, but instead of being whiney as well as grouchy, I shall be snarky. Whether it is comically snarky remains to be seen.

*****

Dear Mind:

In the future you are to limit the stories you play in my dream theater to one of the following topics:

Something nice with any of the current British Crushes. I do not watch Master and Commander so often because I forgot how it ends. Something with Richard Armitage might be nice, but James D’Arcy’s always a winner. I’ll even take the reprise of the standing behind him in line in a supermarket and trying to check out what he’s buying without looking like a dork one. It’s better than nothing.

Neil Gaiman presenting me with a Hugo award. That one never gets old. Well, ok, so I’ve not even had it yet, but really, how could any dream where one of my favorite writers hands me an award be bad?

Something, in other words, peaceful and happy. I’m not looking for much. (Well, maybe a Hugo award. Or a Stoker. Or a black current flavored candy cane. Seriously, not picky.)

You are to not give me a whole night of pain, misery, suffering, family arguments, dismemberment, blood, anger, and shame like last night. Never, ever a bloody gain.

Sincerely and optimistically,

Me.

P.S. If you don’t clean up your act, I will start drinking and destroying your brain cells, then where will you be? Eh?

****

Dear Stupid living Room Curtain Rod:

I do not appreciate you coming out of your brackets when I’m already this close to being late for work I know I screwed you properly in place. Furthermore, I do not think it’s funny that you let your end fall off, so that the curtain fell off, and I had to spend time putting the curtain back on you, then nearly killed myself when the wheeled hassock moved under my feet, causing me to fall. My jaw still hurts from making contact with the table like that, and all I can say is if I hadn’t caught the glass swan you knocked over you would be bent in half, cutting my nose off to spite my face or no.

Aggravated,

Me

****

Dear Very Nice Garbage Men:

I know that your job is lousy. But the middle of the road is no place to leave my brand new garbage can. In the middle of the narrow, practically one lane road, nice and neatly placed upside down so I know it’s no accident that the garbage can is sitting there. See? This is why we can’t have nice things.

But thank you for throwing the lid where I could find it, this week. Very nice.

Snarkily,

Me

****

I think I shall go and be out of sorts while I do something to earn my keep.