For what is my "Friday" this week, it's been an annoying day. Almost run over while pumping gas (I'm looking at you, Catalano Produce truck - watch where you are turning), forgot to pick up lunch (it makes no sense to have two speakers in the drive through at McDonald's when the car in front of you is full of pokey, indecisive people and you have to wait five minutes after you order for them to move - rattled me) and generally stupid drivers (it's called sunshine, and it is usually in your eyes at the same time every morning - get over it).
Lots going on in the city over the next week. The Fair, the Air and Water Show, another long home stand next week for the Brewers, other assorted festivals. This year it is the Thunderbirds' turn to headline the Air and Water Show; based on previous experience, we should hear them practicing in the later afternoon, and possibly see them streaking by, if they still use the route over the Menomonee River valley as a run-off zone. It's a bit freaky to look out our second story window and see a plane fly by - at our eye level. Go, Air Force!
Lots to do on my day off, but I need to be home before noon if I expect to park anywhere near my house when I return. The inspection isn't until nine; if I really want to, I could do the grocery shopping before then. The big store half a mile from home is open twenty-four hours. The only drawback at that hour is the low level of staffing; often, only one cashier is on duty. I'd happily use the self check-out, but only when they start offering a discount to do so.
Last night's dream may have contributed to my grumpy morning. More convoluted than normal, though with a clear plot, it ended with Kyle Chandler dressed in 1940's detective style, going through the house I grew up in, accompanied by an eight-year old kid. The kid laid down on the kitchen floor, then came unzipped, to reveal a toddler inside. I woke up before I found out whether or not the kid was actually a full blown matryoshka.
Maybe more coffee will help redeem the day.
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