Grumble, grumble, grumble...

I realized that it's been awhile since I've written and thought to myself, I shall post something witty at lunchtime. Instead I'm sitting here in a crappy mood, which is no way to write witty things. I've got Opera in one ear from the office radio, Trainspotting in the other and no, they don't mix well. But my headphones, as well as every set I've purchased in this stupid country, aren't long enough to allow me to wear both earphones without actually schlumping toward the cpu which sits on the floor.

It's a bright warm sunny day, the first we've had for awhile now. The forecast is calling for it to hold thru the long bank holiday weekend. I should be jubiliant, euphoric, perhaps even beaming. But I'm not. I'm cranky and bitchy and I want to go home. Why? What, you ask, could possibly have ruined my day? Got to work early, which never happens. Figured out what was wrong with the design we've been working on the past few days and fixed it. Got the tile samples I've been awaiting. And then I went into a meeting with my boss. And spilled tea on my drawings. Before we'd had a chance to look at them. Every day I get closer and closer to my inner cartoon character and I can't say that I'm happy about that. If I were approaching my inner Lisa Simpson, or say, my inner Jessica Rabbit, that would be acceptable. (great. now it's Guns + Roses on the right and Do, A Deer on the left. I'm in hell) But I think I'm more like Luann or one of those kids from Rugrats. When I was little I always wanted to be Bianca from the Rescuers. She was so elegant. Especially for a cartoon mouse. I guess I figured if a mouse could pull off the French Lady thing, I could as well. That's the thing about childhood ideals: reality isn't part of the equation. Not that I've got a firm grip on it now, but I'm fairly certain when I say 'I want to be that' there is usually a hope in hell that it can be accomplished. It might take one of those reality TV makeover shows but I am certain that someone (or a team of someones) in the world can make me into fill-in-the-blank-here. Except maybe George Clooney's wife.

So yeah, not a great day and not sure why. Last night was our last Italian class for the session. That might be a culprit. We went for dinner at this very lovely place on the canal. Really, just a beautiful space. Can't say enough about that space. Because the meal was really disappointing. You know it's going to be a long evening when you find yourself flipping the menu open and closed hoping for another page to miraculously appear. I actually considered turning it upside down in the hopes it read better that way. So, mediocre meal at a premium cost and then home. For the same price, I should have ordered the Barolo and skipped the food altogether. But then I'd have had to share the wine and I was with a bunch of Chianti drinkers. (ooh, mood is worse that I thought)

Ok, going back to work now, my Wine-Snob-French-Cartoon-Mouse self. Talk to you much later.