Oy

Totally pooped. Self-medicated with mashed potatoes last night. My furnace quit on me. I just handed over a whole paycheck for a new valve part-a-ma-jiggy. My printer is only working about every third try and no amount of sweet talk or kicking it seems to help. Nor does the screaming to any deities that may be lurking.

I did get the first batch of orders out. I must have answered the phone at least 30 times yesterday. And only a few of them were robots with political messages (Hi Robert Redford!) and one telemarketer who wants me to invest in the stock market or something. Ha. With what. Dust bunnies? I have lots of those.

When I'm really tired I inevitably throw myself a pity party and whine a lot. Today might include a pan of lasagna. Because Saturday will be a marathon of epic proportions. Send toothpicks for my eyelids for Sunday.

P.S. That picture of mashed potatoes is not mine. I'm too numb to even think of throwing cheese all over the top of them. But that's brilliant.