Downers

Nothing like opening up the morning with four loads of laundry that Fio brought home from Husband's rehab hospital, son still in bed with a migraine, and a computer that refuses to perform,
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The cast iron plants that Fiorella spent hours planting--and replanting--are looking sallow, and an armadillo has been tearing up the planting bed and the lawn. We'll have to get out the trap again.
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Fio cleaned out under the couch and found six pens and seven rawhide dog bones, but not the credit card she was looking for.
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Estella was killed off in La Piloto. Everyone but the bad guys are getting killed off. Mena is probably next.
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Fio's hair refuses to behave. She looks awful.

Overload

Why is Fiorella always so busy, with a continuing list of commitments and responsibilities?  Why aren't other people trapped in this web of constant activity?  What is their secret--elves, fairies, magic wands?  Where are Fiorella's little helpers?

Well, so much for the gritching.  Got to get back to work, which means finishing my laundry and sending out a chapter of one of my unsold masterpieces for critiquing.  But maybe those two are one and the same.

Days of Yore

Fio doesn't like having to do her laundry. She'd prefer it to be like when she was a kid. Back then, all she had to do was stuff her dirty clothes in a hamper, and they'd be clean, ironed, and returned to her closet within a few days.

Must have been house elves.