Broke my bra, first thing. Made an honest-to-god twang, and hurt like anything when it snapped-- reminded me of being back in grade school, when the height of fun among highly-excitable/unstable-hormone/barely-pubescent males was to snap unsuspecting bra straps and run like hell. Even caught myself turning around to see who did that, but of course there was no one there.

Then, I discovered just how lazy my cat has become. Too lazy to actually squat when she pees, apparently. I'm sitting on the pot in my standard morning fog, when I glance down and there she is, standing in her box, pissing out over the sides and onto the wall. Nice. And cleaning it up is such fun at that hour. It isn't as if her box was too dirty for a fastidious feline such as herself, either: it was freshly scooped and littered yesterday. Wonder if you can un-spoil a cat? Probably not.

And the wreath fell off my door. Again. Perhaps if we didn't live in a bank-vault and consequently had a door made of wood instead of submarine quality metal, I could nail it up and it would stay there. As it is, I have to use packing tape, and it just won't stay put. What I need is duct tape, but I can't seem to find any. Don't these Europeans know just how useful that stuff is? It would change their lives, I know it.

So then. Lessons. Usual tram-hell getting there and back. And then I went off to do something I really did not want to do. PushyWoman had asked me a couple of weeks ago if I minded taking her sister (and two teens) out for lunch today because she had something to do, the sister was arriving the day before (ie yesterday), and she hated to leave them alone in a strange city etc. etc. I said ok. And I wouldn't have minded at all. Except then she calls Monday and says she's rescheduled her thing, so I would be coming to her house instead and she would make lunch for the sister and teens. This was not in the nature of an invitation: it was an order. And since she called me at the absurd hour of 8am, I was too bewildered to talk my way out of it. And really, wouldn't the sister, in town for Christmas, really prefer to go out to a nice Italian restaurant? Not to mention the teens? Of course they would, and so would I. I've never been to PWs house. Just met her, in fact. And she's pushy and perhaps a wee bit needy, which I suppose I can understand. I mean, she hasn't been here long herself, and I've been new in town and in need of friends before, so I do try to cut her some slack but still....

So I went. And it was ok. She did not, contrary to her earlier plans, make a big pot of spaghetti. She made a curry which was nice enough, although probably the blandest curry I have ever eaten, which suprised me since this is a woman of Asian descent and she's been boasting about her curries. It was probably very subtle and so forth, and my tastebuds just can't distinguish it because I've spent my life blasting them with spicyhot food, but there you are. And this is where I really start feeling like shit, because she made it for me because she knows I like curries, and she didn't use chicken because she knows I don't like it, and I've seen this woman face-to-face twice in my life. And to be fair, she said she had extra chilies in the kitchen if anyone wanted them but I declined because everyone else did and I didn't want to make her get up. And the dal was very good. And so what if it was a bit boring, because otherwise what would I have done? Made myself a big salad and watched Sheep in the Big City that I taped last night, that's what. And it was a rerun I've seen a bazillion times anyway. So I'm glad I went, I guess. Bland and boring, but you can't have everything, eh?

When I got home, I discovered my wreath had fallen. Again. Am I doing this somehow, with my lack of Christmas cheer and goodwill toward wo/men? Could be. I brought it in. Will re-tie it with thicker, hairier string and see if the tape sticks to that any better.

Am trying to get some Christmas spirit with Robert Earl Keen (however disfunctional). Also in the tray-- Midge Ure, Mark Knopfler. Johnny Mathis on deck, in case REK doesn't work.

Since my husband is off to a Christmas party this evening-- to which spouses are not invited-- will be making my own party with leftover cheese and sausage from our own party last weekend and some dvds. May even pop open a bottle of bubbly. Oh yeah, I know how to live.