Updates

Apparently David Carradine did not intend to kill himself, unless one counts the "little death" (orgasm). It doesn't help. I concur with my husband: What a waste. Whoever it was who realized that suffocation enhanced orgasm (or so I'm told, never having been stupid enough to experiment with nearly dying) really created a monster.

I'm feeling really grumpy today. I slept badly last night. We called the furniture store yesterday, and the daybed that we were promised would be delivered the first week of June won't be delivered until June 18. That's the day my brother returns home. So either the salesman lied to us, or his being inexperienced caused our problem. Either way, now we have settled for the floor model being delivered next Tuesday. They won't give us a discount, despite the fact that it was their error that caused our problem. And who knows what condition the floor model is in?

In addition, the trundle I ordered has not yet been delivered. I got an e-mail that says it was damaged in shipment so another has to be sent. The e-mail was full of errors ("inconvience"), so again, the paranoid part of me suspects we're the victims of a ruse. I suspect it was never sent the first time, and I wonder if it will ever be sent.

Everything associated with my brother's visit has thus far been tainted with problems, and that isn't how I wanted it to be. I wanted perfection, irrationally, the way a child wants Christmas to be perfect. But somehow, all will be worked out. The rational part of my brain knows that if all else fails, I can have my brother and his wife sleep in my bed. We're going to go today to Sam's Club to buy a couple of twin mattresses, which we'll have to carry home tied to the top of our car, so if we must, my husband and I will sleep on those mattresses on the floor.

These allergy attacks are causing me problems sleeping, and the added frustrations of trying to get things done are causing me more problems sleeping, so of course I'm groggy and grumpy. This, too, shall pass.