Monday, Bloody Monday

It has not been a good morning at the Rubicon.

First, I picked up my cell phone on the way to the grocery and discovered that I had not charged it since Thursday. It was dead, D E A D dead, dead as a doornail, dead as a hammer, dead as a cock roach legs up on the kitchen floor dead.

Then, as I got off the exit to get to the grocery store, some moronic woman talking on a cell phone ran a red light and swerved into my lane nearly hitting me head on. I almost needed new underwear, the clenching for impact saved me.

Mercifully the grocery store was quiet. I got my shopping done, only to realize in the checkout lane that I had forgotten my reusable bags in the backseat of the car. Those little goober frogs of the Amazons are now extinct due to my forgetfulness.

As I got on the interstate, I realized I forgot to get two things - tortillas and most importantly, toilet paper.

This distracted me enough to cause me to miss the exit to stop by the UPS depot to pick up a package. Their driver gave our package to one of the neighbors and our neighbors' package to us. We were nice and gave the neighbors their package. The neighbors had UPS pick ours up and take it to the depot. I can think of several things to call them.

I would have turned around to fix all the above, except I had frozen food and other stuff that needed to be kept cold in the car.

In other news, I may be getting my ability to sit in the front room to watch t.v. and knit again. Hubby has beaten his game, God of War. I had been watching him play some, but that gets annoying after a while. He is making noises about starting it again, because he really liked it. I hope he waits a few days, as the new seasons of some shows have started and I am being deprived. I have some Christmas knitting to do, so it would be in his best interest to let me have an hour a night to do my thing.

Of course watching t.v. now is deprivation of decent programming. The networks have determined that paying decent writers is too much. Why pay professionals when you can download off You Tube some guy getting hit in the crotch with a wiffle ball bat by his three year old and call it programming?

It seems that Americans prefer watching train wrecks and things that are so unnatural and wrong (Tom DeLay dancing?! I think I just threw up a little in my own mouth!) that you can hear the brains rotting. I have been surprised that a couple of shows have survived the summer because I liked them. Usually if I like a show it is the kiss of death.

There are those who will say I am a snob. When it comes to t.v., books, and yarn, they would be right.