Bad day. Bad, bad day. Twisted my knee at the gym (um, so about those 2 aerobics classes I said I’d sub for next week…?), took the kids — including my doctor-phobic, tantrum-prone son — to the doctor for shots, and ended with two of my precious youngest son’s goldfish turning up dead and half-eaten at the bottom of the tank. Ick. There was hardly enough of them left for a decent toilet burial.

Definitely a wine night. Of course, living way out here in the sticks, there’s not a lot of choice. So I’m drinking cheapola pinot grigio from a plastic cup, and wondering… can I have a mulligan on today?

Please?