YARRRRRG! Twenty-seven, people! Twenty-seven! I don't even think I look like a young 27. I don't think I look like an old 27, either. I think most people, without conversational context (which sometimes throws people off) would look at me and think mid-late-20s. Maybe early-mid-20s or early-mid-30s depending on how I was dressed. But just automatically assuming I was a college kid, that there was no other possibility? PSYCHO.
Do only college students eat baked apples, and I just missed the memo?
So I finished the errands and came home and set the groceries on the kitchen table as I was unloading them. Saw a box with my name on it and squealed, "I Arthur!"* Cut it open to get out the contributor copies for a nonfiction project I worked on, and when I lifted the books out, it turned out that they were the only thing keeping our kitchen table from falling over and spilling groceries every which way. This has never happened before in the six years I've been putting groceries on that kitchen table.
I bought 18 eggs. We managed to keep 5.
Also, it is what my mother calls "muggy" out. It is humid, and it is hot. And we don't want to turn the furnace off and on and off and on, so we haven't turned it off and turned the AC on. The leaves are falling, the yard is at its best...and it's over 80 degrees. BLECH.
Also I am exhausted from a very small set of errands, which is not new, but it's not more fun for lasting awhile.
So. Yah. I have had more stellar afternoons, is what I'm saying. The books, however, look great, and they spelled my name right, and I hung out with timprov for awhile, and markgritter and I are going to have a dinner date. So really, it'll be a fine day overall. Just -- frustrating.
*Combination of "The Tick" and a typo on the packing slip of my first box of author copies ever. What, like you don't have moments of being a semi-literate cloned snot monster?