It happened again.
I poured water in the damn coffeepot, put the filter in JUST SO, put the lid on JUST FUCKING SO, turned it on, waited to hear it gurgle, showered, came back, and?
It didn’t brew.
THIS COFFEEPOT IS THE DEATH OF ME.
I had to pick it up and put it back down. Sometimes it’s the only way to get it to begin, you know, making coffee. You know how people say, “You had one job”?
Also, I took this cute photo of the Iris.
So if anyone has suggestions for a NONFUSSY coffeemaker, please advise in the comments.
Meanwhile, I haven’t shown you the rest of my Christmas decorations.
I guess you get my drift.
It’s Christmassy up in here.
When I wasn’t decorating this weekend, I took a drive to the country with Ned.
“This was supposed to be No-Ned November,” I told him. Nevertheless, our friends Bitchy Resting Face Alex and her husband opened a general store in the country, and I’ve been dying to see it.
Ned and BRFAlex’s husband always really liked each other. They both have an element of the ridiculous that they see in each other.
As opposed to me. I have no element of ridiculous.
We didn’t tell them we were coming, didn’t know they’d be there. BRF Alex wasn’t, but her husband was.
Oh my god, I loved their store!
I got a t-shirt I been sleeping in ever since, some locally made pumpkin bread, and some sugar sticks. (See the photo above. It’s the box of “Virginia Beauty.” I have a close-up picture of it, but WordPress is acting squirrely.)
Oh! Did that work? Can you see it? I’ve spent way too much time on sugar sticks, which is what you’d say if you saw me naked.
Anyway, after that, Ned and I drove around in the country a bit, and we came around a bend and Ned said, “Did you just see that mountain with a stone face?!”
“No, I saw it with my regular face,” I said, and then proceeded to laugh at own self for an hour and 45 minutes.
It was Hanging Rock. In case anyone’s gonna ask me and get all geographical on my ass.
Also, I saw an owl on a phone line.
Anyway, I’m glad I got to see the store, and why do all my young friends own things? Meanwhile, here I am, working for the man. Technically, I work for the woman. I work for the largest woman-owned something-or-other in the South or east of the something or something like that.
I should own my own store. A Specific Geographical and Facts Store.
Anyway, I guess that’s all I’ve got to report. This week is my mammogram, so it’s time for my annual mammogram terror. I should get EMDR for mammograms. Do you know what EMDR is? Allegedly it works, although I’ve tried it before and I’m still an anxious pile of dung. Google fucking it.