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Yeah, right.
So my mother wakes me up this morning to tell me that London had been bombed. Shocking under normal circumstances, but this was at 6:40-ish in the am and I thought I was dreaming. An hour later, after my mother has left, I get up to go to work and find both tvs still on the news channels. Seems I wasn't dreaming after all. I was so frazzled from the news I left late and actually had to drink coffee (I hate the stuff) to shake myself awake. London bombed? It sounds like a bad joke. London can't be bombed; it's....London!! Those explosions were a truly evil act and the heartless bastards who committed it have no respect for life. I hate to be spiteful, but I hope they choke...or worse.
...
And speaking of worse that was how my day went. I'll brush over the evil brats who miraculously forgot how to do all of their chores and skip to coming home again. There I enjoyed a peaceful halfhour until the phone rang. It was my father relaying a message from my grandmother in Michigan. My sister, who had gone to visit, had been in a wreck and was in an ambulance headed to the closest hospital, which was conveniantly located 45 minutes away at Sault Saint Marie. This of course stressed my mother out to the extreme and she proceeded on the calling spree while I was left in the corner confused until ordered to make her a margarita. It wasn't until I listened in to my mother's later conversation to my sister and her friend(also in the wreck)'s mother that I learned that my sister was indeed fine and she had just hit someone's rear end on a sharp curve. ... I'll kill her.
Then I had to pick up my cats at the vet since my mother was pleasantly tipsy and my father was stressing over insuance details. They've gotten into the habit of peeing on things. Diagnosis? Because they want to. Lovely.
And we're under a severe storm warning tonight.
All I can say is "What did I do to make you angry, gods, what did I do?"