I tried - half a dozen times - to write a post about my experience trying to get my hair cut today, which I thought was memorable because a.) I was trying to get it done between deliveries because the boss needed me to work all day, and b.) I was a sweaty disgusting mess, and c.) the close, convenient hair-cut-shop down the block is geared for rich women not sweaty men, and d.) the hair-cutter was (I think) new at the gig and didn’t properly wrap gauze around my neck so my hair cuttings were making me itchy and I wound up ducking my head into the industrial sink back at work trying to wash away all the shavings to no good end whatsoever.

But, eh, I kept hitting writer’s block.

I was also going to tell you about the crazy sneaky dog who made me take her out three times because she kept doing one thing, then not the other thing, then realized she wanted to do the y’know, other thing, after I’d already closed and locked the door. When she finally did the - y’know - other thing, she did it beyond the edge of the outside light and I think I only wound up removing half of her droppings because I couldn’t see the rest. Eh, that’s what morning is for. She was, I was relieved, very happy to see me. I was afraid she’d be like, “You’re not my owner! Grrr, bark, bite!” But she was like, “Hooray, I like you! Scratch me behind the ears! Hooray!”

Also: I tried to pull her owners’ garbage cans around back before realizing they were still full because - duh - the trash doesn’t get picked up until tomorrow. Stupid Moi!

Also: we got a lot of rain tonight. Hint-hint. (You know who you are!)

I got home, engaged in more biological warfare with fleas, then settled down and watched 1776, which is a great if somewhat long film. I spent a good portion of tv-watching-time on Monday trying to find it on the boob-tube, but no one was airing it, not even A&E. The fuck was that about?