A bit more than a year ago I made a comment, quietly, just to my friends, that a particular person involved in a rather unpleasant incident had painted a target on their backside with a caption reading, “This Person Is Trouble.” I predicted that it was only a matter of time before the Powers That Be at a particular place of business decided to insist that this very special individual go away.

It’s not often that I make accurate predictions.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead fired. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go revel in the shadenfreude for a while.

(If you have no idea what I’m talking about? It’s okay. You’re not really missing out on anything.)

On top of everything else today (and let’s not get into what my workday was like), the washing machine seems to have completely given up the ghost. Of course I discovered this after my clothes were fully immersed in cold soapy water. All I can do now is wait for the rinse and spin cycles… if they run at all… so I can try to salvage this mess.

Can it be Friday yet?

Home again, home again.

Kyla and I spent most of the last seven days housesitting for The Imperial Princess of Cute while she and her man went down to play around at amusement parks or some-such. We tended kitties, occasionally fed a very small fish, played on the Gamecube and read books. Now I’m home, and I get to sleep in my own bed again. Bliss!

More to come, as I find out how true it is that “a change is as good as a rest.”

My day so far can be summed up by one delightful scene at the Starbucks near my place of employment:

“What can I get started for you, ma’am?”

C’mon, dude. I’m standing ten feet away at the most. Sure, I’m rocking my totally awesome scarf, but I’m also sporting reasonably short hair and a big black trenchcoat. Do I really look all that feminine?

Of course the gods decreed that this moment of joy should take place in a store chock full of patrons, for maximum embarrassment value. Spiffy. Can I go home now?