Sunday night

Sunday night.
Sunday night.
Means tomorrow is work.
Bummer.

It's been a long day. It's been one of those days where everything you have planned takes about 20 times as long as you think it will. Because in the course of doing what you have planned, everything else goes wrong. Like:

-In trying to prune back one of my plants, a branch swung back and knocked over the table that was supporting my stereo (3 components, 2 speakers). That CD player rolled more times than Bond's Aston Martin in the new Casino Royale. (It still seems to work, thankfully.)
-I severely bruised my arms and legs trying to carry an armchair that is so big and heavy that even a burly 6-foot-tall guy would have had a hard time carrying it alone. If someone had a video of me trying to maneuver the damn thing up the front staircase, it would have made #1 on America's Funniest Home Videos.
-Trying to get said chair into my bedroom, I knocked over my recently-watered spider plant, spraying dirt and water all over my wool jacket, a number of clean duvet covers, some clothes, a suitcase, and the rug.
-Trying not to step in the dirt, I tripped and broke the the foot off a wooden sculpture.
-I then went to my dad's house to get the keys to his truck so I could take some stuff to the Salvation Army. There were some people there, and I got stuck talking to them. I finally got away and went out to the truck, only to find that its bed was full to the top with leaves; completely unusable.

And that doesn't even count what happened last night! I had dropped my friend Kristin off at her house and was pulling away from the curb when I suddenly heard an ominous dragging-metal sound. Pulling over, I saw that the center exhaust pipe on my car had fallen, rusted through apparently, and that it had dropped, not at the back (which at least would have allowed me to drive home, albeit slowly), but from the front, so it was going up against every bump in the road. So, alone there on the dark street, I took a canoe paddle out of my car (luckily I am someone who keeps a canoe paddle in her car; just in case, you know) and I crouched down in the gutter, and like some homicidal maniac with a vendetta, I snarlingly smashed away at the other end of the pipe with the paddle, over and over, until it was crushed enough that I could twist it with my hands and pull it off. I mean, jeepers!

Come to think of it, work might actually be a welcome break.