First thing in the morning, no less...

Every day should have a highlight, I think. I like something special to happen that puts an exclamation point on the whole experience of a twenty four hour stretch, something that will render it memorable, that I can look back upon and ask myself, "Do I remember the time (highlight) happened?" It doesn't always happen, but when it does, it's gratifying. Usually.

It's 5.53pm. I am still cleaning up little dibs and dabs of today's highlight. While walking back into the bedroom to have my morning coffee (Pumkin Pie Spice from Fresh Market, brewed just so), thinking I was the cutest thing alive in my leopard-print pajama pants and black top, and reflecting on just how cool those pants looked with my shiny black pedicure, I somehow caught my left big toe in the hem of my right pants leg and launched a distance of about two feet into the air. Kept the coffee cup upright, which naturally means I kept myself upright. I don't know how. So the tripping wasn't what made the coffee make a little Pumpkin Pie Spice coffee tidal wave of itself.

Oh, no. That, darlings, would have been the landing. It went all over everything it could find. I began cleanup by scrubbing it off a stack of Moleskine journals and a book I'm studying in preparation for yoga teacher training. (Okay. Maybe the yoga is how I maintained such freakish, fountain figure poise when I flew straight up into the air after tripping.) It splashed under the bed, but not on the dust ruffle, and all over my stack of Vogues and W's. Baseboards. Covered. The largest blat went right on the carpet, and I promptly stepped in it.

Back to the cleanup, after a nice wringing out on my yoga mat and digging out some fresh cleaning rags.

My bedroom smells like Starbucks.