2004-07-20 - 6:31 p.m.

I am having a bad day. Well, a bad second half of the day, the morning was fine. Work, line review, meeting, meeting, leave. I was having my furniture delivered today - a coffee table and my bookcase! Finally, my bookcase. Last night I unloaded the old one, piling the books up against the living room wall. Moved the case, swept the floor, moved a glass table out of the way. Delivery was today between 2 and 6, and so I had to leave the office by 1:30, because with my luck the delivery guy would be here at 1:55 and then leave. My coworkers talked me into McD0n@lds for lunch, our assistant even offering to run out and get it so I would have time, and so I broke down. Except she didn't get back in time, so I had to leave, sans burger, and got in a cab with the beginning of a rumbling hunger headache. Got home, cleaned up, got online to work for an hour or two. I was starving, and decided to make some pasta - while it was boiling, the delivery men came.

My fucking bookcase is too big. It's too big. I'm crushed. And when the guys slid it into the space, and I realized it was blocking the closet door, I spun around and frantically looked for an alternative. Of course, the only empty wall in the living room was now occupied by six five foot stacks of books, and there was no way the delivery men were going to stand around waiting while I moved them. And besides, I don't think that's the right place. Ok, so I didn't really measure it. Well, I measured it with my arms, but only the bookcase part, not taking into consideration the crown molding on the top that spans 4 gargantuan inches on either side. Damn it. So they left, and I can't load the books back in, and I can't move the bookcase anyway. I curse myself for 15 minutes or so, and then return to my pasta, which is ready.

But when I take the lid off, I think I see something in the bubbles - dump it into the colander, and voila! A fly. A big old fat fly. I made another batch, with some new pasta, but I was totally freaked out eating it, inspecting every bite. And when I'd gotten out the stepladder to get the pasta out of the cupboard, I also took down the sugar, to refill the sugar bowl. Always thinking ahead, right? I knew the stupid thing was empty, and WHILE I WAS UP THERE ON THE LADDER I might as well get it. Left it on the counter, and when I returned to the kitchen after the bookcase fiasco, I realized it was confectioners sugar, so went to get the stepstool to get the right one. Except the stepstool is in the closet. Which is now blocked by the bookcase. Bastards.

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