Monday, Monday

As Mondays go, this one was eventful. Not in a bang! pow! wow! sort of way, more like a continuous barrage of white noise that had to be searched for bits of information and possible insight.

*I was told I was predictable. Predictable. I really must work up a new routine of funny remarks. I may begin with randomly lapsing into a bad British accent. Wait...I already do that. OMG, I am predictable.

*May have frightened Ed with the boyfriend remark. Sorry, Ed, I'll try to show more restraint in the future.

*Discovered, much to my dismay, that Stephanie, who has cut my hair for the last year with fabulous results, has left the salon business to return to school and pursue some other endeavor. Which would explain why I trimmed it myself an hour or so ago. I may need to seek professional help later this week. For my hair, I mean, not to explore the deeper psychological implications of why I whacked my hair myself.

*The 16yo has just appeared at the door singing to me in Spanish. With a big fat grin on his face. Translation: llamas are larger than frogs. Then he's gone. Boys are strange.

*It would seem certain that the garage door opener is kaput. When I press the button to activate it, a horrible noise and shaking occurs, accompanied by an overheated motor sort of smell. The door doesn't budge amidst all of this commotion. When disconnected from the opener, the door opens and closes with little effort. Leading me to believe it's the opener. Sigh. Another appliance bites the dust.