I'd like to tell G-d that I'm having another one of those days that I didn't order. Weird things are happening, and I don't know why. Here is a list of my complaints, in case the Big Man reads this.
- The undead bugs are supposed to be leaving there little desiccated buggy carcasses everywhere and making their 100 decibel horror movie REE-REEE-REEE sound by now. I don't see them anywhere.
- I don't know where today went, but I wanted to knit a swatch for the SnB thing tonight. No such luck. I think there was a lunch hour, but I don't remember what happened to it.
- I got a very strange phone call. The Scoundrel, Jeremy Erskine, has claimed another victim, this time in Nova Scotia (never doubt the power of my sleuthing abilities). The Canadians should hire me. I'm sure I'd have his hide hanging from a flagpole in very short order.
- Nobody seems to be able to catch this guy. He is very bad and G-d should make sure he goes back to jail where he belongs. It should not be up to his victims to keep track of his ass.
- Boss related strangeness abounds today. Apparently, I should do something I thought I should do, but that someone else said I better not do.
- Based on my experience with the American health insurance industry this week, I believe I can finally write my novel. Oh, wait. Someone already did. It's called Catch-22.
- And finally... Dear G-d, you created me and all my body parts. Could you please tell my immune system that my large intestine is an original part? I'd be so much happier.