Phriday

I'm home, because I took this afternoon off. I was intending to use it to finish the first round of qualifying paperwork for TransPerfect, but they want me to format a table that came through as a picture, so I can't. I have the same set of files at work, so I'm going to wait until Monday and see if it's a Mac/PC problem, or if it's TransPerfect's problem. (They also want a PDF of my diploma, which struck me as somewhat silly.)

The latest round of anniversary party email was the "so what's everybody wearing for the photo?" one, and now I can't find the shirt I was going to wear, and I'm sorely tempted to bring a sweatshirt and jeans and wear those for the rest of the day afterward.

OK, found the shirt. It was on the floor under the bottom end of the comforter, thereby rendering it both unlaundered and wrinkled. Sigh. Next? (The sweater I wore to work on Tuesday, I guess.)

I need a fuzz fix, I think. All I have to do is leave the guest room door open tonight, and I'll wind up with all the fuzz I can stand.

What should I do with the next hour and forty minutes of mental health afternoon?