It's the heat. It's the hormones. It's the potential final death of the foot pedal to my 1960's era Singer Sewing machine. The best sewing machine ever built.
But it began last night with that talking mop head on Channel 4 news. I don't know her name, probably because of whatever that strange accent she has, I can't understand half of what comes out of her face.
And I suppose to be fair, it wasn't like she wrote the copy, but it was something along the lines of "the first teacher-turned-astronaut returned safely to earth today."
She wasn't the first "teacher-turned-astronaut". The first was Christa McAuliffe. Remember her? She died in the Challenger explosion? Are we just going to conveniently forget her death? Sweep it under the rug as icky or something? Pretend it never happened?
What an insult to her and her family.
Then it ended with waiting to pay for my burritos to go at Moe's for five minutes while the super duper perfectly oblivious can't do anything wrong or our child will be mentally scarred for life debated whether the child's chocolate chip cookie should be put in a plastic sleeve or just be put on top of her chips.
Really. A serious pro/con, point/counter-point discussion while the rest of us stupid morons who obviously didn't get the memo that the fate of their child's cookie was the most important event on the planet today and we should all stay home so they come to the right decision without that silver haired old bitch leaning over the cookie (!!!!!) to hand her debit card to the cashier.
See? I'm going to go take a nap now.
Or start yoga classes.
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