The other night I had a dream about Mr. Darcy. I took this to mean I should be reading Pride and Prejudice, so that’s what I’m doing. Oh, Mr. Darcy! *doodles hearts on notebook*

I had A Day on Saturday, and it wasn’t until I was talking to my mom about the latest of my own personal series of unfortunate events, and she was like, “You’ve had kind of rough week, huh?” that I realized, yes. Yes I had. It was kind of a relief to realize that I was feeling all weepy and upset for a reason. There has been nothing huge and traumatic, don’t get me wrong. Just a string of things that, individually would be not a huge deal, but one after another it just… Sucks.

The latest irritant, courtesy the Lords of the Cosmic Jest, is that one of my tires has picked up a nail (on the side, so it can’t simply be plugged) and I have to get a new tire. It’s one of those things that I am perfectly capable of dealing with but, at the risk of letting down Team Feminism, I just wish my dad were here to take care of it. Car stuff is what dads are for! Example:

One night, when (former roommate) Boy and I had first started hanging out, we were downtown at the movies, and I was driving my old car. When we got out of the movies, my car wouldn’t start. So I immediately pulled out my phone and called my dad. With Boy sitting in the car next to me. He just looked at me, flabbergasted and insulted, all, “Did you just call your dad? You have a guy in the car with you! At least let me try and do some dude stuff first.”

I told him I was sorry for insulting his manhood. It’s just the automatic reaction. Car broke = call Dad.

Boy told me that he reserved the right to mock me indefinitely for my ridiculous girly-ness. But he did get the car started with his dude powers, so there you go. I realy hated that car. I’m fairly certain the feeling was mutual.

In other news: Cricket gets back home tomorrow. YAY YAY YAY!!! I should not be left to my devices for too long. I guess I should disassemble the couch pillow fort in the living room, huh?