Is it only Monday?

I have always liked to believe that I broke the rule on "spacey" artist types. Clearly after today I may have to admit I might be a member of the stereotype after all. My sister, Barbette, views me as the Van Gogh type, quick to turn tragedy to epic proportions. Though it has never occurred to me to slice off my ear and send it to the local prostitute as a demonstration of love, I must admit I have come close. Today's absurdity takes the cake; whatever cake Van Gogh might have been eating whilst asylumed. I looked for angel food but the store-baked version would feed 60. I tried the idea of a Marie Callendar's pound cake and lingered quite a while over an Entenmann's butter thingy. No cake was suitable, but there was no denying I flaked out in every other respect.

As I drove away from Enfield, talking with Donna via cell phone with the speaker on (it IS illegal to hold it up to your ear, which makes sense), I yelped in disgust! I thought I left my glasses back at the lab or something. I had gone about 1/10th of a mile and I panicked. I told Donna I did not have my glasses and I was going to retrace my footsteps to find them. Sianara sweetie! I abruptly hung up, made a U-turn, and then suddenly drove right by the place I thought I left them. Another U-turn (not in the street~ in a parking lot) and I automatically punched the center of my nose. There they were, more clean than usual, on my face the entire time. I AM AN IMBECILE!!!

I headed home, tail between my legs, all the while laughing at my moronic behavior. The humilation is not just forgetting the glasses were on my face, it is knowing that I rely on them now for distance as well as reading. I am still adjusting to the idea that I will see better if I keep them on while looking through the binoculars. Figuring out that fractal truth is near impossible to me, kind of like Captain Janeway and her despised quantum mechanics on Voyager. Not only am I dim-sighted, I am such a Star Trek groupie that I see my problem in the fictional space/time continuum. So so SO very sad little geek girl.

By the way, I loathed the series prequel. What was that called? "Enterprise"? Or something equally unimaginative. I used to cook dinner to Voyager reruns, but now that TV has died and I have to live with merely with my own thoughts as I cook. Good or bad? Remains to be seen. Where is that nano?

A stormy night kept all of us restless, at least the 4 of us Northward. Time to sleep. I HATE THESE DAYS. I HATE THEM.