Australia

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

You know the kind. Like in the book about 9 year old Alexander.


The type of day where all of Murphy's Laws seem to be fulfilled, and everything that can go wrong, does.

Alexander believes the cure for all his problems is to move to Australia.
At this point, I'm checking Expedia for cheap plane fares.


I'm pretty sure my cat ate my hamster.

I could stop there, because just that statement alone is enough for most people to fully understand the day I'm having.

I got home from rehearsal at the dance studio this morning to discover my hamster's cage knocked over on the floor. And the gate part of the cage was wide open.
I started digging around in all the bedding and hamster crap....

No hamster.

My cat, Aubrey, was laying stretched out on the back of the couch. Normally this wouldn't be cause for alarm, as Aubrey is the world's laziest and possibly fattest cat, so all she does is lay around.

But this time she was licking her paws.

Ewww.

I put two and two together and figured out that she had likely decided to forgo the Purina breakfast I had set out for her in favor of a more "lively" meal.

My cute little hamster is now going to be fertilizing the lawn.

I'm also on week three of a rather strict diet and exercise program. I hate it.

What I want more than anything in the world is a HUGE cheeseburger, topped with every imaginable condiment and add-on, and sprinkled with lots of fatty goodness.

Mmmm.

I danced a hole in my favorite pair of jazz shoes this morning while practicing.
My abs are sore from working out last night.
My neighbor's geyser-style fountain is still running at top speed making me have to pee.
I have to do laundry so I can go out of town tomorrow, again.
AND
I can't figure out 67-Across in my new crossword puzzle book.

Okay, bags are packed.

G'day mate.