The whole DAY has been like this.

 I am on hold, the second caller in the queue.

I wrote that this morning.  The problem was eventually identified and fixed by a very, very clever young man who noticed that someone had spelled our name wrong and that was the spoiler. We are an ÈourÈé, not an 'ore'.

 Oh, drat and other expletives. My keyboard has shifted to French. Again.

Back later. Or, perhaps, Encore un fois. Whatever.

Hah! "our".

I went to get my hair cut this afternoon. My wonderful stylist, who has been cutting my hair for twenty years, disappeared from the salon just as I arrived. Family problem. I have done the same thing myself and so I do not fault her. But a lovely young colleague of hers gave me quite a different cut. 

And there is no Quick Blending flour in either of the grocery stores in my shopping town.

And it is 11:05. I have just turned into a pumpkin - the kind that has just had its brains scooped out with a spoon.

Tomorrow I have to go and work at the hall in the morning, my daughter and partner are coming for lunch, so they will make it. Then I have to make the filling for three pies.

On Sunday I will put the meringue (Where is an accent when I want one?) on the pies, schlep them to the hall, perhaps clean and fill twenty odd pair of salt and pepper shakers, come home for a break and go back to work on the door for the hall dinner.

So much for posting every day with any coherence or plan.