Forget the martinis, Carole, I'm going for straight from the bottle.

Today, I managed to break a glass in the garage. Why I was carrying a glass in the garage is beyond me, but the damn thing exploded like a bomb. I'm fine, but it was just so much fun cleaning it up. At least no one has to sweep the garage floor anytime soon.

Since the den carpet is out being cleaned after last week's dog-peeing-on-the-rug extravanganza, I decided to let Bean sit in the den and watch TV while soaking her foot. She decided to reinact the effects of all that rain in the Northeast and dumped the entire basin of water on the den floor.

Major points to me because I did not even yell.

I very calmly sent her to her room, emptied the laundry room of dog towels, and began mopping up. And hour later and the floodwaters have receded, the slipcover on one of the den chairs is in the wash (I have no idea what Epsom salts do to upholstery and decided not to wait and find out) and I have mopped.

At least I had moved my knitting to the bedroom, so no Calmer was harmed in the flood.

Now I have to go back to washing because I have a couple of loads of sopping wet dog towels on the back patio waiting for their turn.

My mantra today: I will not have a screaming tantrum I will not have a screaming tantrum I willnothaveascreamingtantrum.

At least, not yet.