You just haven't earned it yet, Baby

I'm hot, I'm chilly. Not cold. Chilly. Is this a fever or perimenopause? Do I even care? What difference does it make anyway?

It's been a day already. I'm already bracing for tomorrow and with all the talk of what happened with the IMF Head and the maid in the Midtown Manhattan hotel room, there's an even greater sense of pressure from the day I wish I could forget. There's the fury of what happened, but the weight of knowing that freedom has its downside. It means people like him can continue doing what they do.

Nevertheless, one must carry on and that's what I've done.So far today's landscape is, um, varied.

1. Using coupons, I got two free bags of cat food at Publix. A win.

2. The Kroger didn't have the 1/2 gallon of milk for a dollar as advertised, but I did pick up a $3.88 bottle of Malbec. I also got hugged by the guy who delivers the Pepsi products to the Kroger, Ingles and WalMart stores. The hug came after he showed me where the packets of Kool-Aid were. It was kind of creepy. Then he was leaving when I left and he helped me load the groceries into the car. It was all awkward and I was trying not to overreact, just thanked him with a stiff smile, I'm sure but it was just - - strange. I'm feeling strange. Maybe that's it.

And dammit, I forgot to stop at the customer service desk and ask for a rain check for the milk.

Good thing I bought that wine.

3. While I maneuvered around the curious cats to put the groceries away, the doorbell rang. A quick poke of my head into the dining room. The landlady. What did she want? She hadn't called ahead. Fiddlesticks. Did I mention that we're not supposed to have pets?

I pressed myself against the wall then dropped on all fours to crawl across the living room so she wouldn't see me. My plan was to go out the basement door and meet her in front. If I could distract her from going inside or looking at the windows, maybe I could prevent her from seeing the cats who would undoubtedly be pressing their noses against the windows watching to see what might happen next.

She had other ideas. She met me halfway around the back. We chatted briefly while she took photos of the peeling exterior paint. She said she was glad to meet me finally. I didn't correct her. We actually met two years ago when I met her in the Kroger parking lot to get the lease and keys to the house.

Why does it feel like my life is resembling a bad sitcom more and more?

4. I tried to be calm and nice, but I ended up muttering fuck and bursting into tears while talking to the travel agent whose unpleasant task it was to tell me that Chloe's plane ticket is nonrefundable. Oh, that fine print. I know.

Okay, who in England wants to host my kid from July 10 - August 10 because we've just paid an extraordinary amount of money for this damn plane ticket for which Delta can't see their way to refund the money? She can au pair for you. She can clean. She could easily learn to drive on the other side of the road, if necessary. If it goes well, you can even keep her. She doesn't eat much. Toss her  a bagel or a scone and she's good for a day.

The travel agent was nice about it. The kindness of strangers and all that. (insert sound of grinding teeth)

5. I wiped my tears and emailed Cambridge a very professional sounding letter begging for a refund of Chloe's deposit. I emailed a nastygram to Chloe. (Careful here on your comments, I'm allowed to beat up on my kids, but you aren't, also, parental sanctimony isn't a great idea today. Thanks.) Fingers crossed that Cambridge will be reasonable because right now I'm not feeling terribly reasonable.

6. Why can't I be one of those people who can't eat when they're upset because the last couple of weeks would have been guaranteed to have helped me shed twenty pounds. But no. Of course not. In my head, problems are solved by copious amounts of sugar and fat. Please pass the bacon and chocolate ice cream.

7. Good thing I bought that bottle of wine.

8. There are many good things amongst the wacky, the unfortunate, the frustrating. I received another delightful treat in the mail. Teri Carter, of The Carter Library, sent me a handbag, a pocketbook, a purse and a bag. Some of them even came with their own bags. They're an assortment of colors and styles that will up my panache factor in ways I cannot even begin to tell you. I've had great fun modeling them for the cats and anyone else who will look. I even include accompanying music in the form of hummed I Feel Pretty!

For now I'm carrying the blue Coach bag. The color says Spring and all my stuff fits into it with room to spare. If I try, I bet I can even fit that bottle of Malbec in there. Thank you, Teri, for thinking of me. I appreciate it very much.

9. Now I wish I'd gotten two bottles of wine. Maybe I'll take that Coach bag back to Kroger and see how many Malbec bottles it will hold. A couple of nights in the local lock up might do me some good.

10. I'm reading The Memory Palace by Mira Bartok. Here we are again at the issue of perspective. As bad as things may seem, one can always find someone who's having or who has had a harder time of it.

That doesn't mean I won't be swimming in the bottle of Malbec with all the self-pity I can muster. Let's not give me more credit than I deserve. It just means I understand that my bad is someone else's are you fucking kidding me, you drama lightweight?

Sally forth, my loves, using whatever coping mechanisms you trust. Whats new?