Today, the baby wouldn't stop crying, so I took him to the pediatrician.
He had an ear infection, so she called in a prescription to Target.
It wasn't ready, so I tried on some clearance jeans, but they wouldn't zip up.
Depressed, I took the baby to the snack bar and ate some nachos while he downed a bottle.
Only ate a couple because the baby was fussy, so I took the leftovers to the trash, but the THANK YOU door to the trash can bounced back and slapped the bowl of cheese out of my hand, sending it in a glorious arching flight across the floor, my shoe, and the hem of my fat jeans.
And that's how it goes.
(Disclaimer: I'm actually feeling pretty cheerful, I just thought it was kinda funny)
As I was writing this, a bloodcurdling scream came from the linen closet. It was Toby, who went to bed an hour and a half ago. I opened the closet to find a panicked Toby screaming, finger pointed behind me. I was pretty concerned that it was a demon or a burglar or something, due to the screaming and the shaking outstretched finger, but it was a papercut, which he got from reading an animal encyclopedia in the linen closet 90 minutes after he went to bed. Because my life is NORMAL.