Updated: May 11, 2019
Ever since I was a kid I’ve had Stupid Days, when one goal after another hops off my to-do list and laughs hysterically.
I had one this week.
First I spent a determined half-hour trying to find the CD slot in my replacement computer so I could (re) start my exercise regimen. I ran my fingers along the sides, turned the still-pristine machine over and over (the way other people examine produce) and then experimented with increasingly desperate combinations of control/alt/EVERY-SINGLE-KEY to reveal the hidden drawer. Nothing. I called my husband.
Turns out the new model Mac doesn’t have a CD player.
I bagged the sit-ups and decided to do errands.
And promptly lost my insanely long shopping list mid-store.
Then, after months of driving around with a pair of pumps clomping on the floor of the car, I finally drove out to the shoe repair shop. And discovered that the good shoe — the one whose heel had not been eaten by Sullivan (the Seriously Bad Dog) had tucked, dropped and rolled to join the footwear kicking it on the side of the open road.
(The good news is that the age-old question, How do all those single sneakers and sandals end up on the shoulder? was finally answered.)
After putting away the un-finished grocery shop, I attempted to comply with the request from Harvard Square Editions to link my Goodreads reviews to their site. I hooked them up with the reviews for Huck Finn.
I was able to update the info for Close on this site. I hope.
Then I went to bed.