An odd day following the long weekend:

On the way to work this morning I nearly hit a wild turkey in the new car. I missed it by only a foot or so. There were a flock of them in the road and of course five went right and one went left. I got to experience those antilock brakes in action as I nearly clipped the right hand foul fowl.

I am having terrible allergy symptoms. We ate with our landlord last night and her three cats sent me into a congestion spiral. I am doped up on “non-drowsy” allergy meds, but I still had to pull over a catch a cat nap on the way home. I bought the allergy meds at the Flying J Truck Stop around six-thirty in the morning and the cashier told me, “I hope you feel better honey.” Ah, the Flying J. I bought Madeline Albright’s nine disk autobiography on CD there the other day for nine bucks. I’m on disk three if you want to borrow it.

I am still figuring out how our car alarm works and I accidentally set it off in the parking lot I had been napping in. It took me a good ten minutes of trial and error to get it shut off as all the people around me confirmed that I was an idiot rather than a thief. Work was good and as this is my first week sans puppy mill I feel like I am coasting. I have far less than half the work I had been doing on my current docket.

I am getting married in less than three weeks, with a little bit of luck, with a little bit of luck, with a little bit of blooming luck. The day that I hid the wedding ring in Jes’ dresser drawer she inexplicably walked in the house singing, “I’m getting married in the morning.” Nine out of ten psychic girlfriends agree: intuition is key.

My brothers have been calling me for final triangulations. I am the youngest of six kids and so there is a bit to triangulate when our little murder of crows gets called. Jes is jumping from one to twelve nieces and nephews. Rounding up enough car seats for the out of town guests seems to be a final thing. Oh, there’s also Jes opening at the Chicago gallery the weekend before the wedding. Nope, we’re not busy, not at all.