I started having an off day the moment I got up.
I had much trouble writing so my father, who is in town, suggested I go to work with him today. I could sit in the car and write and maybe even help him with his rooftop job - 1/2 hour tops, he said.
A change of venue was just what the doctor ordered. Except I spent about three hours up on that roof. That cold, windy roof. He thought it was the funniest thing - I stood waiting for his next instructions, scarf covering my hair, gloves protecting my hands, I scribbling furiously in my notebook, the pages fluttering in the wind. He threatened to take a picture but his phone was not with us on the roof.
I went home and burned my dinner. I was talking casually when my father suddenly shouted, "Flames! Fire!"
I turned around and sure enough, flames were shooting from the food.
"I can't believe I did that again!" I whined.
He stopped putting the fire out to laugh.
I knew when I got out of bed that it was one of those days.
