It was a bitch and a half to change the light bulb in my kitchen�s track lighting. This included hauling out the tall ladder, balancing and reaching way above my head, burning myself on a hot bulb, and then not being able to direct the light correctly. The reflection off my sink gives off quite a glare. No good.

Then I decided to get all Bob Vila on myself and get the bed put together. Long ago I bought cheap-ass furniture from Target. I�ve got the dresser and the two nightstands working without complaint, but the bed�s frame and the headboard just don�t go together.

I thought if I got a drill and a mean look on my face that I could use two large l-brackets to affix the headboard to the frame. Boy was I wrong.

The beginning of this task involved moving the mattress set. No big deal if you�re Hulk Hogan or well over 110 pounds. Alas, I am neither of those. I may lift weights regularly, but I�m still significantly smaller than a mattress and a box spring.

However, I was a force to be reckoned with. I heaved. I hoed. I eventually muscled those suckers up and again the wall.

This is where I initially broke out a sweat.

Once the box spring was removed, I ran into my second obstacle. The metal bed frame had no holes to nut and bolt an l-bracket to. So now I had to think of a way to affix the l-bracket to the metal frame so I could drill it into my cheap-ass headboard.

After a little examination, I saw that I could turn the l-brackets horizontally instead of vertically. Only this idea was foiled when the screw holes aligned just-so with some gaping screw holes already in the board. This sounds like a workable problem, but trust me when I say it isn�t. Combine that misfortunate misalignment with the fact that horizontal l-brackets would by no means support a headboard sufficiently, and you understand my frustration.

By 8:30 I should have left for the non-date (plus my two girl friends), so I wiped the sweat beads from my face, said, �Fuck it, I look good enough,� and left with my purse in-hand.

I was feeling a bit down from a combination of failed Bob Vila-ing and being dumped, but I was determined to go out anyway.

But when I got to the el, I discovered that my swipe card wasn�t working on any of the turnstiles. Apparently my wallet didn�t protect the plastic card enough, and I split the damn thing down the center.

I had a ten left over from the farmer�s market that afternoon, so I tried to buy a new card with that bill. Lo and behold, my money is inferior. Every machine spit it out.

Fuck going out.

I scampered home, where I promptly had a meltdown. Happy interrupted my hysterics and tried to get my mind off of things. She helped a lot, but then I was a zombie for the rest of the night, mindlessly watching the last disc of the first season of 24.

Today�s been much improved, as I wormed my way through work, IMed and emailed with people who make me smile, kicked ass and took names in my gym�s boot camp class, and made my way through a pretty typical work day.

Also on the upside, there�s a skating event tonight. 14 miles throughout the city with a bunch of strangers, likely followed up by a movie at Happy�s house or a phone call to Texas.

Happy trails, all. May your lights shine correctly, your l-brackets hold your headboard up, and your el cards work.�