Lost Hope
I would like to ask the universe this morning why the frequency in which things seem to hit the fan in the least convenient manner possible is in direct proportion to how important it is for the aforementioned things to go smoothly. Shockingly, this post is not about how everything went swimmingly along when there was nothing for me to do but sit around the house and watch Downton Abby reruns on Netflix. My husband had a big thing at work today, so he needed to be in the office before eight. So, last night, I arranged everything: I set my alarm for 5:45, I made the lunches I needed to make, I picked everyone's clothes, and I went to bed at a reasonable hour. However, as I am currently scribing this part of the tale while watching the hubs type stuff in the kitchen at 8:10, clearly, something in my great plan has gone strangly amiss. What was the problem, you ask? Did an earthquake bring down the power grid? Did a rogue case of bubonic plague break out in our apartment? Have the ...