I went out the other day on my bicycle to buy some milk.  I suited up, grabbed some cash and headed out the door.  My morning was uneventful up to that point, routine. It was about to go awry, but not while I was on my bike, no thanks to the cruel fates who would have loved for this little memoir to have started off differently. 

After I returned, I realized that I had to replace the car’s registration sticker.  It had expired the 28th and I had to put on this year’s new little sticker so that I could be legal and that no one could call me illegal and take my car away.  I grabbed a razor blade scraper thingie, some Windex(TM) registered patented trade-secreted intellectually propertized brand glass cleaner, and my new little sticker, clutched in my paw like the last Cheetos brand(TM) original corn puff snack of goodness on the planet. 

Or maybe I felt a little like a first grader in craft class.  Whee, what were we going to make?  I’ve got my pencil, my paste, and my paper.

Scrape scrape scrape, went the razor.

Smudge smudge smudge went the sticky glue bead balls.

Tear tear tear went the old sticker.

Curse curse curse went the Jimmy. 

Spray spray spray went the Windex.

Wipe wipe wipe went the paper towel.

Smudge smudge smudge went the window.

Sigh.  Finally the surface was prepared, and I applied the sticker.  Look, mom, no bubbles.  But the stupid thing was on upside down*.

It was going to be one of those days, eh? 





*not really, but it’s funnier that way don’t you think?  I’m sure that’s what James Frey thought.  Truthfully, my day was just fine, a bit hectic, but then again that’s life, doncha know.