timing

This Tuesday past was looking to end in a train wreck. I arrived home in a foul, foul, foul mood, roiling and ready to take down anything and anyone in my path. An undercurrent of one particularly nasty happening peppered with several less serious but maddening happenings (por ejemplo: frigid weather, a demonic possession of Microsoft Word, and a monkey wrench boss) had made my mood thus.

But lo! upon entering the house, what did I see but a beautiful brown box addressed to little old me.

Shortly after, I was eating my humble, got-home-late-from-work-throw-something-together meal, contemplating holy toast (which would prove more holy: wheat or white?), thumbing through my Cloudspotter's Guide (the first official publication of The Cloud Appreciation Society...of which I am now a member), and looking forward to my thermochromic Silly Putty (and possible insight to answering Nacho man's question).

As I sipped hot cocoa, the foul faded away with van Gogh's ear.

Thank you, Liz (& Co). Very much. Perfect timing.
[This won't come as a surprise: the above named I hereby claim for myself. The lovely cups and saucers will be shared with my lovley.]