Gloomy Sunday

It's just one of those days.

Winston is almost a whole year old. The plan is to go to Petco and buy him a new Lamby to replace the one who got lobotomized after the whole washing machine fiasco. Speaking of birthdays, my baby sister turns 18 today. I have to call her. Sometimes it seems so hard to break that 3-hour time difference. It never seems to be the right time to call.

The husb and his mother are at a hotel in Hollywood or Beverly Hills or someplace, drinking cocktails. I am home with Winston. We might take a walk soon. Just ran a load in the dishwasher. Should wash some clothes, too. Winston found the stash of dirty laundry in the closet (because the baskets are all full). He likes to climb in and sort through it all. I had a dog treat in the pocket of my robe and he tried to get to it through the wrong side of the robe. So now I have a pocket full of dog-treat crumbs and a dog-mouth-shaped hardened saliva spot in my robe.

I hate that dumb robe.

I'm not feeling very cheery today.