It's a Monday

Right. So it's been a day.

My night, in descending order of awesomeness:

1. eating a bowl of ice cream with chocolate chips and watching Gossip Girl;

2. discovering the cat, who is a sensitive soul, has been peeing on my bed all day, unbeknownst to me. Oh, and not just peeing, but peeing blood, which actually doesn't worry me because it's happened three times before and at this point I know the vet is going to run a lot of tests and discover she is a stress case but with nothing physically wrong and offer to put her on prozac for me;

3. discovering smoke coming out of the washing machine because I tried cramming a queen-size duvet into it rather than going to the laundromat;

4. realizing I'm one of "those people" I read - or even write about - in the paper. "Well, what did she THINK would happen?!";

5. trying to wash the detergent out of the duvet, in the bathtub, and then losing my balance and falling backward into the brand-new metal shelving unit I put into the bathroom this weekend to keep the place tidier. And now I have a sopping wet queen-size duvet in the tub. And an aching back.

On the bright side, my landlord is possibly the nicest man in the entire world. "Oh, I guess I'd better go check that out," he said, from his home, where any normal human would at that time have been getting ready for bed, upon hearing I had possibly set the building on fire and could have set the alarm off, evacuating the building. "It sometimes does that if you try to wash a really big blanket. Maybe next time try the bathtub."

Small mercies.