It’s 7:52am, and my day has already been pretty great.

My alarm went off this morning just as a nasty nightmare was about to start, and when my weird little dog jumped up on the bed to say good morning (as she always does), she didn’t jam her pointy dog elbows into either one of my boobs. Forget waterboarding – if you want to truly torture someone, subject them to a 40-second, early morning dog elbowing.

So, I make myself my daily mocha to-go, and wandered out into the morning to take my weird little dog to grandma’s house. We walked along the road, getting high on the smell of sun-fattened, purple-bursting wild blackberries, and so we stopped to pick a few to eat along the way. I’m teaching the dog how to pull the berries off the stems, but she’s afraid of the pokey points that nip her nose as she’s going in. So I just pick some for her, because I’m a good mom like that.

We get to grandma’s house where she tells me that she has decided to start doing “little old lady exercises” at the local seniors’ centre (she’s 68 years young), and then she fed my weird little dog a cat treat.

I walked home via the bakery route, and sniffed myself happier, and decided that I should pick some more blackberries to feed to the Little Blonde Bunny that I see every morning. LBB now takes the berries right out of my hand, and I’m hoping he’ll let me pet his big bunny ears soon.

I head home, and after my shower I got dressed, and realized that I finally need to start wearing a belt again, as my pants that used to squeeze the self esteem out of me, are now having a difficult time staying put on my whittled waist. I ate some oatmeal, I kissed The Cheerleader I’m Married To goodbye, and headed out.

I decided that today was an 80’s-music-on-the-commute kind of day, and while driving over the Knight St bridge listening to Werewolves of London, I looked over and saw a guy in a Ford F150, eating a Starbucks muffin and singing along with me. I turned to him and mouthed, “…You’d better stay away from him, he’ll rip your lungs out Jim!”, to which he mouthed back, “…Hah – I’d like to meet his tailor!” before driving off with a huge smile on his face.

And finally, I get to work. Where I learn that there is leftover pizza in the fridge from an event last night.

Are you serious?! Can this day get any better?!

I’ll hold out hope for leftover cake…

Happy Wednesday, everyone!