It's funny how a rotten day can turn into a perfectly wonderful one.

This morning, on my way to work, I was running a tad late. Although traffic is always light on Friday morning, I needed some extra time to pad my time sheet. Baby girl decided it was time to play while we got her ready to go, and her and zee got into an armpit farting contest. Couldn't get her out of the house quite by 6 AM.

Dropped her off, got on highway. Pulled a lane-swerver, which I don't usually do ( that irritating motherfuc&#$% who weaves in and out of traffic). Face it, people, the left lane is for passing. If I am outrageously speeding, I am passing.

Get off my 15 minute freeway ride onto my lovely backroads. Man in Volvo shoots off at the green light, then suddenly slams on his brakes. I slam on mine, spill my coffee all over the front of my favorite purple sweater. (Somehow, this reminded me of my ex-best friend, Chris. He used to say that my chest was a catchall for all sorts of items - crumbs, spilled drinks... I can't help it. They stick out. Of course, this only happened when my chest got big. Back in the day, he and the gang focused more on 'the ghetto booty': trove of all missing objects)

Get to work, mad about my sweater, and mad that I forgot to help out my friend at work the day before. (She called me 10 minutes after she left work, asked if I would put her forgotten lunch back in the fridge. Of course, I became pissed about some stupid thing at work, and completely forgot about it) Felt so bad, and was so incredibly hungry. Told her: Dang it - we have skipped eating bagels for 2 months now. Let's go get bagels - my treat.

Ate my bagel after discussing teen sex ( started after a conversation about the girl on Maury who DNA tested 32 men, couldn't find the father of her baby) and swiftly felt the effects of those 80 grams of carbs ( that is 16 units of insulin. I normally have that for 3 meals.) Became very, very sleepy.

Talked to other coworker about his poor father-in-law who just had the quadruple bypass. Wished him the best, and then headed to the bathroom because I knew I would fall asleep on my desk. Didn't sleep in the bathroom... too cold in there.

Come back to desk, phone ringing. Very frantic mother telling me she can't take baby girl to preschool- the 5th day in a row- because she is puking and coughing. Frantic mother says no babysitting tonight, sweetheart. I tell her I completely understand - 5 days of baby girl running rampant in my big house and I would freak out too.

Zee called to tell me he was thinking about me, and couldn't wait to see me.

Went and deposited my Pell grant check and got gas. Brushed my teeth, and realized my toothbrush needs a new head.

Got back to work, thankfully remembered to call in my prescriptions. YAY! Decided to read the rest of the articles I had printed out, and phone rings again.

Friend I had left a message for calling me back. I felt terrible that I couldn't remember why I had called, and I apologized profusely. Started talking about blog, girl who wanted Tiffany ring and etc. Told me he was getting married.

What a mix of feelings. Here I am, a pretty bad cynic on the whole subject, but at the same time, I am thrilled to hear that someone has it good and is doing it well. Lowkey, nice, quiet. Completely shocked and surprised that I was informally invited. As I have never met this friend face-to-face, became stuck in a mesh of insecurity and strange feelings....is it appropriate to meet someone for the first time at their wedding? Isn't that a screenplay or something? And no, I don't plan on trying to woo this man, a la "My Best Friend's Wedding".

Well, stranger things have happened. I mean, I am going to Iowa in four months to watch one of my favorite people in the world marry a girl he met online in their goofy rpg. These two people are so meant for eachother, they even look alike.

Right now I am waiting on my ultimately sweet man to come back home with dinner. Baby girl got a nice dose of robitussin, and is snoring, holding her puppy, with thumb in mouth.

My poor kitty is sitting in the window next to me, I had to compliment him profusely because Zee told Baby gurl that my kitty was born a rock. They ran around the house calling him "rock". My poor kitty is already confused- his name is mouse and he thinks he is a dog - barks and everything.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. Very happy about the way the world looks - to me - right now.