Last week didn’t quite work.
There was a live rat in the bedroom on Monday morning (thanks cats!), my beloved purple climber on the front of the house tried to kill itself by ripping the trellis off the house, Iain broke a rib, I got absolutely drenched in a 3 minute downpour during my precisely 3 minute walk home, some **** stole our truck, some seriously trivial IA thing at work got escalated to my uber-uber boss, one of my authors pulled out at the last minute leaving me scrabbling for an August article, and I managed to ruin a favourite jumper with chewing gum from a mysterious source. Oh and I had to go to Peterborough again.
Other than the truck and bones, mostly not disastrous things in themselves. But combined they definitely make me feel picked on.