That can't be right

The aircon service man came when he said he was going to, serviced the units without incident, said the whole system was in excellent shape, charged me less than I was expecting, and left no mess behind him.

After he left, I managed to diagnose and fix the problem with the computer, and was consequently able to diagnose and fix the problem with the wireless network.

Then I rang the council to try to solve the mystery of why the recycling didn't get collected last week and the phone was answered immediately by a person who was not only real but also polite, intelligent and helpful, and who organised for the truck to come by today or tomorrow.

All this and it's not even eleven o'clock yet. There's obviously something dreadfully, dreadfully wrong.

UPDATE: It gets worse; the bin-emptying dudes turned up and emptied the bin, before noon. I've already touched wood, but I might have to burn some sage and lavender oil and have a cleansing ceremony.

I'M NOT SHOUTING

Here's some folk wisdom garnered over a lifetime of dealing with my father (a dear man in many ways, but pure Id, and born without even a Volume switch much less an Off switch), with two of the blokes  from my chequered past, and now with five years' worth of blog discussions: if in an unguarded moment you are unwise enough to point out to an angry, aggressive man that he is being angry and aggressive, he will turn on you with the anger and aggression ramped up to the power of ten and say I AM NOT BEING ANGRY AND AGGRESSIVE!!!111!11!!

And he will genuinely believe that that is true.

In which she admits defeat

I haven't seen my watch for over two weeks, maybe three, not even in the wake of a fairly major (for me) cleanup. It has a stretchy band, so it couldn't have come unclasped and fallen off unnoticed. No, I have taken it off and put it down somewhere.

But who can say when, or why, or where? I have retraced my steps; I have meditated, trying to dredge up a memory; I have moved furniture, thinking a cat might have batted it somewhere out of sight; I have had a Girl's Look every day since I realised it was missing. On the advice of a Facebook Friend I have even prayed to St Anthony, patron saint of lost objects, without result. It was a nice watch and it wasn't cheap and I had only had it for about six months.

But I can't manage without one any more, so in a minute I'm going into the city to see if I can find a new one that I like and can afford. And there is not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that if I do that, the old one will turn up before sunset.