It started out so well, too.

Me: What a lovely sunny morning. It's so nice to feel hope again. I might even have time to savor my breakfast...

Cat 1: *leaps onto the table to investigate said breakfast, coffee is jostled and spatters over the library book I'm reading*

Cat 2: *flails off my lap in a panic and vanishes under the bed in the room they're not supposed to be in today*

Me: *wriggles under bed to get Cat 2, must haul him out in a fireman's carry when he opts for Leaden Passive Resistance, looks in mirror to see work shirt covered in dust and cat hair, and with a new hole at my shoulder from kitty claws* Well, fu--

Yeats, via text: Have you seen my glasses? I got to work and can't find them.

Me: *spends ten minutes searching through his dresser, the side table, the bathroom...*

Yeats, via text: Oh, they fell out of their case and were in my car the whole time. Sorry!

The Clock: You were supposed to leave for work ten minutes ago!

...I hope y'all's morning was better. At least I still smell good (BPAL's Venus Murcia), my lipstick and eye shadow are on point, and if I end up having to own this library book, I like it.

Reading Log: King of the Mild Frontier by Chris Crutcher; The Big F by Maggie Ann Martin; The Consuming Fire by John Scalzi