A Misnomer Perhaps?

There are good days. And there are bad. There are days when the sun is shining and my nose isn’t, my socks match, classes get cancelled and the lunch is edible. There are days when there is no electricity, water and my laptop is charge-less. There are days when I’m so down in the dumps that I’m sure the dump-keeper must be Australian. There are days when it kills me to not waltz into the honcho’s den and sashay around his hideous-desk-like-thingummy.

There are friggin’ good days. There are friggin’ bad days.

I wouldn’t mind either variety. But what I usually get are the in-betweeners.

For someone trying to live up to Betty Foy, I don’t seem to have grasped the trick to lifting the sash of the kitchen window without leaving footprints on the ledge and fingerprints on the flower bed. Whenever I try, I always wake the baby. Oh well.