I now understand why people punch glass.

Because I just punched an icicle, and it felt GREAT.

There's nothing like the sensation of winding up your fist and hurling it like a kamikaze into a transparent yet solid mass and watching it shatter at the force of your very touch.

(Please disregard the fact that if I punched anything else, say, a basketball player (like Pau Gasol), he would react in a way similar to that of an orc that had a heavier-than-usual butterfly land on it's arm: with annoyance, confusion, and a slight ticklish sensation. )

(All that was a roundabout way of saying I'm not that good at punching things)

But today I felt lost in a library. And I realized that that has never happened before. This is what happened: I had to go to the Redmond library because I needed a book for my childrens literature class that wasn't anywhere to be found in Bend. And I have this thing about always looking very purposeful while in a library, that way people will know that I can really read. But I discovered that it's really difficult to look around confidently and nonchalantly when you don't even know where to look for something to look at. This was unfortunate but not disastrous: thanks to the Dewey Decimal System: i found the book.
And I discovered that the library is right next to the police station, which is convenient for at least two reasons:
(1. if anyone at the library gets out of control during a book reading, discussion of library fines, or fight over the next Nicholas Sparks book (emotional women get dangerous when they're going after their chick lit fix), the police only a sprint away
(2. if anyone at the police station tries to throw down a fact about the history of baseball that is so obscure it can't be found via the Google, the library (and winning a bet) is only a saunter away.

Also today: my mechanic wouldn't call me back! I called him and left a message to see if I could bring the car by to have him see what the ever-present Check Engine light is coding for this time, and he wouldn't call me back! I mean, it's probably something that the marriage counselor will be able to resolve once we start all that, but I really wish he wouldn't do this to me. I always call him back when he tells me my car is done and this is what I get to pay him, and I haven't seen any other mechanics since I started seeing him exclusively. I wouldn't cheat on my mechanic, not even when he won't call me back!

And I don't get to pretend to be a sorority girl with my best friends this weekend because I have to work, which is always sad.

And Portland traded Pryzbilla, which makes me SO sad because he was the bomb.

I'm done complaining now, because it's ridiculous and also because my mom just gave me a shirt fresh out of the dryer to hold on to. Win.