So the repair guy didn’t show up this morning, apparently because the customer service rep I spoke with told me “Wednesday” when what she meant to say was “Thursday.” If the guy shows up on Thursday he’s going to have a rough time because no one will be there to let him in except the cat, who will be too busy hiding under the futon when he hears the doorbell ring.

That actually made for a relaxing morning: watched the World Cup match — holycraplandondonovan — and not having to rush to work because I was assigned today’s scanner shift.

Which means I’m responsible for the breaking news that goes in tomorrow’s paper.

And then:

Whaddayameantheresanearthquakeyeahanearthquakeholycrapanearthquake

ishouldgetnewsbreakdoneearlyohwaittheresawreckat51andleopardlanethatican

walktoexceptthatsnotwherethedamnwreckisheylookseverethunderstorms

ohrightiforgotaboutnewsbreakcompletelymolesterwhatmolesterohthatmolester

certainlyillcheckonstormdamageandthatpermitforthenewdumpmaybe

weshouldscrapthatduquesnelightstoryforanotherduquesnelightstory

thinkicantakeaminutetoeatdinnerwhaddayameannookwritingthemolester

storyfirstandthencheckingonstormdamageandpoweroutages

andgoddamnimgoingtobereadyforabeerwhen

IFINALLYGETDONEWITHALLTHISCRAP.