It’s certainly a Monday.

One of the first things I realized at work was that all of the audio was missing off of my iPhone. No music, no podcasts, not even any of my ringtones. My work environment is kind of loud (especially when the world’s loudest typer is in since he sits in the cube next to mine) and I usually have something playing in my headphones so I can drown that out. Fortunately, everything came back when I got home and fiddled with iTunes, but I now have 6GB of music and 6GB of “other” on my iPhone. It’s a good thing I bought the big one.

I found out that the ringtones were missing when Jay the Contractor called to tell me that the painters, who no one was expecting, decided to show up and slap primer on my bare wood doors and trim. Never mind that I’m paying extra for clear wood that can be stained (which is what I wanted). Now they’re having to strip off all the primer and maybe even replace some of the wood. It’s all kind of goofy if you ask me. I wasn’t mad and Jay even told me that the painters confessed to screwing up and that they’re paying to fix it all. Even less reason to not be mad. Sure it’ll take longer, but even without screwups it takes longer for contractors to finish things than you’d think.

So I’ve come up with another possible ideal age for a woman. I figure when I’m 45, I should go out with someone who is 33 1/3 (and not 78). So after some calculations, I figure that’s someone who is born around 1/3 of a year or 122 days beyond my birthday, or August 12, 1976. Coincidentally, my sister’s birthday is August 11, which kind of creeped me out even though she’s a lot older than 33. In any case, I’m never going to pull this off. Let’s see, 78 would be someone born in 1931, which is my mom’s birth year. I just can’t win.