Some pustulant wart-faced consummate toad DENTED MY CAR in a parking lot in Palo Alto, and didn't even have the decency to leave a note. We make still by the law in which we're made, sweetheart, and you will get yours, even without my help. Promise.
(Pulling into work last night, I watched the odometer roll majestically onto 35,000. I have had this car slightly less than 49 weeks. It's still my new car, and I am still pissed.)
Other than that, and getting not even close to enough sleep, it was a particularly lovely morning. elflet and I soaked blissfully in hot water at Watercourse Way, and he helped unstick my knees (no more throbbing pain, yay). From there we progressed to Lulu Petite (peppered beef sandwich on foccacia with caramelized onions and sauteed greens; rosemary potato chips) and then to a new coffeehouse, Caffe del Doge. He had the cookie assortment and the mostly mint tea; I had the torte della nonna and was entirely too pleased for my own good.
I am halfway through the second week of classes and am pleased to report that I have managed to keep up with all the reading _despite_ none of my books having arrived earlier than yesterday afternoon. Still pursuing the paperwork for the GE waiver (that goes to the UAC tomorrow, and may they choke on it in triplicate.)
Dealing with the car and the police report made me late to work, but didn't seem to stop me closing tickets left and right. Got to have dinner with Anita and Carrie, where we exchanged horse gossip and caught up on plans for the centennial celebration of Homer Davenport's 1906 importation (this was the first importation of Arabian horses directly from the horse-breeding Bedouin tribes to North America, and is responsible for providing the ancestors of all my horses.) It's in Silverton, OR, the first weekend of August. Busy summer...