the happenings of things

Some days, things happen. What I mean is like, some days, you lose your keys (well, Elvis has them, but whatever), some days you forget how to spell, some days you want to grouch at people all day long. Some days you keep misjudging the door jambs and you keep ramming your shoulder into them, some days you burn your dinner, some days you can’t remember your own phone number, some days you sit on your butt and watch the news till you’re late, some days you pick at a hang nail until it’s hamburger and then press on it because you kinda like the intriguing pain, some days you can’t get your radio to tune into the political talk fella on a.m. that you like, some days you find an ant in your coffee cup, some days you get a paper cut with a file folder right between your fingers, some days you have to scrape ice, some days you forget to watch something on the television that you were looking forward to, some days you wish you had some lime Perrier but you don’t, some days you can’t find your eyeliner and so you look very very surprised all day long, some days you have your mail stolen, some days you ate too many carrots, some days you wish you were listening to Simon and Garfunkle but you can’t find your disc, some days you feel like shouting at people for no reason, some days you check out a talking book from the library and it’s one of those annoying ones that never says "end of side blanketie blank" so you listen to dead air for a real long time before realizing it’s time to turn the tape over. You see what I mean, some days, things happen.

Why is it today that I keep writing on my fingernails by mistake? I’ve got the prettiest French manicure and I keep inking it all up. Dang it. I wish I’d’ve just found an ant in my coffee cup again. That’s a better thing.



arrivederci, rebecca marie