Or not. It’s probably somebody’s birthday today (Facebook alerted me to two) but the title refers to what I now text to people I have sent misguided text messages to. “Oops! Happy birthday!” It started when our friends of porterization sent us a loooong text wishing someone happy birthday. Um. Nope. Not us. Since then, I have sent THEM at LEAST two misguided texts, usually things about the spelling bee or wordly-type puzzles that were meant for the beach urchins.

I had been up in the air about when to drive back down to the Planet Ann Arbor. My original plan was today but ongoing work weirdness made me want to be ONLINE today and I didn’t want to drive Sunday and have to deal with the Pandemic Road Cowboys with their big f*cking trucks and 85-95 mph speeds and unwillingness to let someone driving a smaller SUV at the SPEED LIMIT (75 mph) pass slower traffic. So we are going tomorrow. It was probably a good thing to change those plans because it rained ALL DAY here (we needed it) and everywhere else in Michigan and there were and maybe still are severe storm warnings in the lower. No thank you.

Absolutely FOREVER, including today, I have cleaned the moomincabin stovetop by pulling out the burners one by one, soaking them in the sink, and reaching into the holes to clean out what’s underneath. I was ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDED today when the GG walked over to the stove and LIFTED OFF THE WHOLE TOP! Just like that. I wonder if The Commander (my late mother) knew you could do that. I certainly didn’t. Yes, it’s a small-size stove. I’m not sure how old it is but definitely decades. It took a cFam boy to figure out how to open it up like that. As nutso as he can sometimes drive me (we’re arguing about Elon Musk tonight, don’t ask), he was a good catch. The Commander would be the first to agree.

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