There I was, slug-a-bed, when Dan Gent texted me, asking if I was watching the lunar eclipse. Grabbed my sweater, slipped my feet into sandals and I was out the door like a shot. Sleepy meowrs questioned my sanity. Freezing cold.

I caught a glimpse of it just before the cirrus clouds obsured it from view. What a terrific way to start the day. Thanks, Dan Gent!

I put coffee on to brew, fed the cat (not in that order), did morning ablutions, made the bed, then came over here to the computer. I had a book review to write and post on Amazon, so I could pass the book on to the next person

Bernard Cornwell, The Last Kingdom 3 stars (and I'm being generous),

and took a peek at other people's reviews of a book I'm currently reading, Klassen, The Apothecary's Daughter. It's OK, quite readable so far, though I'm not a fan of historical romances, especially ones set in the Regency. It started out as an interesting story, but it's beginning to bog down. We'll see.

Sometimes I don't finish books I don't like, particularly if the author has an axe to grind. I truly strenuously dislike being proselytized.

Yesterday, it turns out, they did have a pizza birthday party for me, while I was gone out of the office. I had made it clear that I was leaving at noon for a lunch engagement, but that was when they picked up pizzas for lunch and everybody, I'm told, had a good time.

I came back to cold leftovers. I had had a nice lunch with Dan and friends, so I was in a pretty good mood, and just laughed it off. The whole day was like that--crossed communications, missed appointments, misunderstood messages. Something in the air...or in the stars, Horatio.

When I came home and was telling the tale to my housemate, B, turns out she had much the same kind of day. She does finishing and construction work and the door she was going to hang was 1 inch too short, the grout color that she ordered was mismatched, etc.

We were both definitely out of sorts, but it was not the kind of day to remember and hold a grudge. More the kind of day to shrug one's shoulders and say, "Oh, well, c'est la vie, mes amis." The evening was quiet, reading The Apothecary's Daughter.

Today will be better, post-eclipse.