Tip me over and pour me out

I got up at 6am yesterday to go to yoga. There is something so invigorating about being up and out in the early morning, before the sun is even fully up, walking past people who have likely not been to bed yet. I was sleepy, but I assured myself that yoga would make me feel better, and would give me the start to my day that sleeping in and chugging coffee on my way out the door would not.

Theories are a nice thing to have.

In yoga, I was completely off balance.

When I got to work, I discovered that the coffee I had made and put in my travel mug had spilled all over, soaking everything in my bag, leaving a big stain on my light pants, and seeping onto the bottom of my shirt.

I was in a foul mood all morning, until I went to Starbucks and got coffee. I had not wanted to go to Starbucks, though, hence the coffee-from-home plan. So that irritated me.

I cancelled a drinks date with a friend.

At the end of the day, I found a recipe for sweet and sour cod with broccoli and cabbage. I bought the ingredients I needed on my way home and got to work, chopping and stirring. The sauce needed 15 minutes to reduce. Somewhere between 12 and 12.2 minutes, it burned in the pan, causing an acrid smell to fill the kitchen and making my eyes tear up. I threatened to throw away the entire pan. Rob asked me not to.

New pan. I tried again, but I had run out of honey and when I put my face towards the revised mixture that was simmering on the stove, I was sure that I had been poisoned. I threw it away.

I texted Superdad Jay, who had honey--and finally a sleeping kid. Take three worked out ok, but not before I spilled my glass of wine into the toaster.

I'm actually not sure I should be typing right now, lest the computer explode.