Some Days it Does Not Pay to Get Out of Bed

My washing machine leaked. Leaked is actually an understatement. It gushed. Out my front door, soaking my welcome mat again. Into my closet, threatening my precious shoe collection. Into my kitchen cabinets. For the second time in as many weeks I have been flooded. After complete and total assurance from the management folks after the first time that all was repaired and there should be no further problem. The first time it leaked, I was a busy little bee - I sopped and mopped and ruined every towel I had trying to stem the flow. This time, I am letting the maintenance gentleman handle it. While I sit on my fat ass. Rude I suppose, but I have had enough. All I can think about is the legion of mold spores probably growing and festering right this very minute. I have become increasingly more fastidious in my old age, and things like 50% of my carpeting getting soaked send me into a tizzy. I realize there are bigger problems in the world than this. But right now, I want to cry.

I am particularly annoyed because this is the first day I have had off in 8 days. Again, not a big deal. Clearly there are people who work a lot harder than I do. I spent today doing chores - grocery shopping, baking cupcakes for an office party tomorrow, cleaning the bathroom, and the ill-fated laundry. All day I have had a gray cloud hanging over my head** due to the fact that Steve had to cancel a trip to Las Vegas next month he promised me. I should be counting my blessings - I am extremely lucky to have a job, a nice***home, a healthy family, great friends. But right now, I want to cry.

So in the spirit of perking up, I shall post a picture of my newest acquisition:


I know, it is super corny. But it was a belated housewarming gift from Steve and therefore I adore it. See those 4 bottles of wine? I am about to go open them. All of them****. Simultaneously.

**despite the fact that it was gorgeous today
***albeit wet
****I am not even kidding a little bit.