I can't come to work because a meteor hit my car.

or: what I wished I could call in with this morning because I am tired and lazy.

Nothing catastrophic happened last night, and a blanket, a dark field, and a handsome gentleman friend meant that not much stargazing happened either. I caught some beautiful meteors though; some left vapor trails in the atmosphere, others showered brief sparks, one even was low enough to make noise.

In other news, my poor ex, whom I will name Cricket for his love of that British sport, is not getting the hint that things are over. I feel bad for him. And I am huge on most conflict-avoidance so I probably have not outright said "we're done" but really it should be quite obvious by now.

Skinny jeans....not attractive on ANYONE. No I don't care if you're a model. You look like a stork with huge feet dangling at the end of your tightly encased legs. Why would anyone want to do that to themselves when boot cut jeans (or flared anything) make such a gentle transition between legs and ground? I'm even tall and thin and they look ridiculous on me; far more-so on chubby short girls.

I would like to know why people expect me to call them when their books are overdue. In the Olden Days, I'm sure they returned them all on time and remembered the dates THEMSELVES. Now they are huffy if their books are late, as though that's somehow my fault. Today's not a good people day. I'm tired, and I hate human beings at the moment.