Laura and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Since last week, I have really been trying to switch into my proverbial 'productive gear', and begin splitting my days between powering through my three online real estate classes (you know, the ones they require you to take before you can actually even register for the state exam), and hunting down a job. Let's just put it this way: I am ready to find a job. I am ready to be a productive member of society again. And if no one out there is willing to give me a job, then dammit, I will go sell some friggin' houses...

.....I suppose it's not until something is gone until you realize just how absolutely dependent you are on it. At 10am yesterday, my laptop decides to do the crash thing on me. And I am rendered completely useless. All of this motivation and would-be productivity flies out the window. I was lost. Suffice it to say, I probably could have done some job hunting in a newspaper... If I had one. And if I had the patience for the small print. And I suppose I could have maybe picked up a text book. .....I was LOST I tell you.

So what's the next logical option to fill up my day? Why, Netflix of course! Because I had Carrie Bradshaw coming in mail!! And after checking the mail for the 3rd time, it was here! Season 5! I popped it in and promptly realized - I had miscalculated and managed to miss an ENTIRE season. Something like 16 episodes. How does one do this? Dare I watch it out of order and go against the very reason I Netflixed this damn show in the first place?? ...Grumbles. Back to square one. With not a stitch to watch on normal television. I'm going on my 4th day sober of no new SATC and the withdrawals are beginning to weigh heavily.

So I spent the afternoon dusting. Dusting is no Carrie Bradshaw, let me tell you.

Continuing with my domesticity, I whipped out the cookbook and started some lemon chicken concoction for dinner. I was timing it to where it'd be on the table when Matt walked through the door. It was perfect (if I do say so myself)... Everything laid out... Baked chicken, parm rice, balsamic salad, wine... All he needed was his butt in the chair. And as I sat to wait, and pull my meal a little closer... The sky fell. Well, it was my wine, actually.

This small glass of burgundy I had poured for myself had suddenly become this crimson tidal wave, successfully drenching my 10-months-new beige carpet, in a more than conspicuous area. So five minutes later, instead of Matt walking into a nice, calm, dinner-on-the-table, aroma-in-the-air, household... He walks into a wife on the floor in tears, with soggy pink towels and a cold dinner. It was a mess.

Ask me how you get red wine out of beige carpet. I still don't f-ing know! But some site said club soda and salt, and so that's what we went with when a damn bottle of Oxy Clean crap didn't work. It's now down to a light pink carpet blemish. I say "blemish" to make myself feel better, but let's not fool ourselves. It is a very LARGE blemish ...And let's just say we are now in negotiations of how and when to professionally clean and/or replace this room's flooring.

So, in conclusion, here I am sitting on said living room floor, with my desktop comp perched nicely on my coffee table and my ass perched nicely on a bed pillow on the floor. (The internet refuses to work at the back of the house, where the office is located.)

...Hey, at the very least, I'm resourceful.