Stuck in a pothole and I can't get up. Or may be it is that I don't want to get up. I've had such a horrible day thus far, that being stuck in a pothole is not the worst thing in the world. It seems that I can not go anywhere, or do anything right.

This morning was a beautiful morning; fresh out of a fairy tale.
I awoke in blue polka dotted covers and rolled to the side to bury my nose in Kitty's feathered furr. From her a soft purr greeted me with her sleepy good morning.

How I could not help but smile! Oh, today was a good day I could feel it in my toes! They tingled and wriggled with anticipation. Today would definitely be a good day.

I jumped from the bed and landed with a thump in front of my black and green chest of drawers. My red dress, that would be perfect for a wonderful day!

But standing in the mirror there was something missing. A coat or a hat or a scarf! A scarf! that's what I need! From the mirror I plucked a bright striped scarf and notted it loosely around my neck. Kitty meowed her own approval and followed me down the wooden stairs, hop by hop.

Breakfast was grand I must say, (as i cooked it myself). The eggs were runny, but not too runny; just enough to slide down my throat. The butter was golden on a loaf of my favorite italian bread. And the grits were cheesy. It's the only way to eat them like a proper individual, as my grandmother told me. Kitty and I shared the bacon. I hoarded the greasy bits while she knawed on the raw left overs. After a glass of orange juice, I slipped on my shoes and went for a walk down the street.

Mrs. Leptin was there at her mailbox. Good morning," I said. "Good Morning," She said, " What a lovely morning! The roses are blooming so vibrantly!" They're Gorgeous," i replied coddling the buds and flowers. " I'm off into town and maybe the fair, would you come along?" Iasked my neighbor. " Oh know, such a lovely day, I must spend with my flowers!"

My invitation declined I have to admit I was a little disheartened. Nontheless, it would still be a lovely day. I gathered Kitty into her basket and together we went into town.

The shops were just opening. The atmosphere had an excited air. Some shopowners sniffed the air for possible customers while others looked about cheerily and waved Good Mornings toward Kitty and I.

Straight to the Fountain then walk to the left, you'll end up standing in my store window. It's not much to look at. There's paint on the walls, an old piano and a few art canvases, but it has always been a favorite hang out of mine. Once inside, Kitty jumped out and began her habitual patrol for unwanted pests. I hung up my scarf and set the basket behind the counter. It was time to teach piano.

My first student was always late, so I sat at the piano and played some of Hanon. Then came some Mozart and Beethoven and finally Brahms. Oops, I thought, I let the time pass without any thought. But an hour and a half after opening the store, no one walked in, or rung my bell. Kitty was content to watch at the window as passerbyers walked to and fro. An hour and a half! I should have had three students by now! I stood next to Kitty and watched as she did. Until I noticed that the passerbys supposedly walking to and fro were actually just walking to. "Meow" Kitty cried looking at me and then the door. " Yes I agree." So I grabbed my scarf and then the basket and in jumped Kitty. I locked the door and followed the people down the road.

My so called sit com

Imagine this as the next tv show. A college student; Her boyfriend; And her dad; The twist: Her dad and boyfriend are roomies. Not just any roomies, like best buds and your an outside spectator to their wild and out ideas and practical jokes. Maybe you could live with it. Maybe you could get used to it. Until you find that your very inner core of feminity is endangered. For the men out there this is good news, but this is my actual life and many times have found my basic feminity lacking. I am referring to the bathroom narratives and microwave tricks essential to a "stud hut" ( As my Dad refers to it). Besides those facts, we cannot overlook, the flamboyant displays of, "Oh just put it wherever" and it doesn't really matter. The hut is not the most attractive house to walk into. You could look for days and neverd find the USB cord to your ipod that you left by the computer two days ago. So begins the race of the sexes, the pigsty against the homemaker. Let me go ahead and tell you, I marry the man that rooms with my father and love him until all eternity. But I've kept my feminity.