Scruffy kicked things off today with a vile viscously thing launched from his inner reaches onto the passenger seat of my car. It’s not the first time something untoward has come from one end of him or another, it’s just particularly bothered me so far. I think it’s mornings. I’m annoyed with mornings this week and moreso, I’m annoyed with whoever decided on them. Who exactly decided on mornings, and when did this decision come about? Who said we have to start everything every day at 8, and all of us all at once? I think it’s ridiculous, why do we stand for it? Each morning in our house, whether we stay up the whole night or sleep to 7:45, there is a stressful mad rush. It’s the most fragile thing. Questions must be asked over and over — did you get your field trip form / math / check / lunch, coat, brain? At least one thing is left behind. I make a brave attempt at being chipper in the car, if the traffic light on 78th is out I pretend to find humor in it. Somehow we make it each day — whether we’re up at 5 in the morning, or 7 — and it’s always three seconds before the bell but I feel accomplished by it. Today, though, Scruffy barfed. And again, it’s one of a number of times in the course of his three years, but it particularly disturbed me, I can’t shake it. I’m delicate, I think.
There is a mystery, too, with WordPress and you’d never understand it unless I showed it to you, if you come over I will. For months and months, maybe a year, I have been working in a half-baked WordPress GUI. I was hacked two different times, and it affected my software but to reload it all required some trickiness and a backup so I just chose to ignore it. But now today, here’s my Dashboard clean and new, all pretty. No explanations, no acknowledgment. Sigh.
I’m going to Arizona for a day or two, I wish you could come. If you’re Mark, there’s an email on the way, I didn’t reply a long time ago remember that? If you’re Laura you should drive over here, it’s not all that far, and drop something — anything — off at my door. I’m peeking through the shades right now to watch for you. Some of the neighbors, I think, find me strange.
I thought Elizabeth Taylor was mean to Eddie Fisher but it could be said that Eddie Fisher was mean to someone, too. Still. Floss after meals.