The Stars and the Cookie Jar

My shoe DID fall off. On the escalator.

I fell down three stairs of the escalator, landed on my ass, but at least no one stole my shoe at the bottom.

So then I was gimping even more than usual, and I took my socks off and my shoes stopped falling off, but in the 100 or so total steps I took in the train station and on/off the bus, I got a scorching blister on my left heel.

Did I mention the part where three out of four transit gates thought my transit card was de-magnetized? "Should work!" said the helpful man in the kiosk.

And now for my last day at work, which was already making me wibbly, and features let me tell you the dumbest Ebonics-speaking temp in the history of the world. Some people temp because of hard luck. Other people temp because they haven't the knack for a professional environment AND GET FIRED FOR BEING STUPID AND EATING PEOPLE'S SNACKS.

And she ate all my snacks, down to the oatmeal.

And my wife is going to Neil Gaiman tonight without me, on my last day of work during which I am sure to be crying. Because that's what I do. I cry at inopportune times.

At least there's going to be an ice-cream cake.

*limps off*