Especially when you consider that it’s actually Tuesday.

• My dreams of getting a cat have been foiled by The Atlantic’s recent article on toxiplasmosis. I need to risk more mental instability like I need a hole in the head — which the abovementioned parasite also seems to supply.
• It was my birthday on Saturday. I am as old as Methuselah. Unlike him, I am not a hero, Biblical or otherwise. Nor do I show signs of becoming one.
• My sisters have both moved back east. This happened weeks ago. For some reason it hit me today. No cat, no sisters, no youth. The bummer trifecta. Sigh.
• We were given a beautiful tomato plant as a gift exactly eight days ago. It is already dead. Time elapsed from receipt to destruction of potted gifts is shrinking alarmingly.
• I have not been able to find a show to replace “Parenthood.” “Sherlock Holmes” on Netflix is profoundly disappointing. Hulu is a farce. A farce with commercials.
• I am reading a book about the history of Jerusalem. Fascinating, but talks a lot about the Bible. This reminds me of Methuselah, which reminds me of my geriatric status.
• Speaking of cats, MJ has begun referring to herself as a “black kitty cat named Sid” on an alarmingly regular basis. Is this normal? Should I be worried? Does she have toxiplasmosis?
• We finally got a new water filter to protect us from the toxic sludge that is Los Angeles tap. Now I worry about the plastic and rubber being transmitted by — you guessed it — the filter itself. This, in turn, makes me worry that I am turning into Julianne Moore in “Safe.”
• We probably have a sizable tax return coming to us this year. Unfortunately its receipt is contingent upon one of us actually filing. Enormous pressure. Who has the time? Who has the receipts? Depression sets in. We’ll stay broke.
• Ironing inventory: 34 shirts, 13 placemats, 2 girl’s dresses. This is not an exaggeration. I just counted. My husband insists he will do it all himself. Why is this not making me feel better?
• My ice plants, heretofore the one thing in the garden I could rely upon to thrive, have suddenly and mysteriously started dying. I cannot figure out why. If Sherlock Homes solved plant cases I would watch his show again.
• I look at the bathroom. It is horrendous. It needs re-tiling. There are people who know what that would look like. I am not one of them. It will never get done.
• MJ has become obsessed with playing with sticks. This is fine. This is sweet. This is Waldorf-y. I am pleased. Unfortunately she brings them into the house and leaves them in little piles. Everywhere. Mina finds said piles and masticates them. She particularly enjoys doing this on the living room rug. When she is done it looks like a forest floor. Cue the deer! I have vacuumed up wood chips three times already this week. Perhaps I should collect them and throw them in the garden instead. Perhaps this would help the ice plants. It is certainly not helping our vacuum.
• I need to write thank you cards. It is overwhelming. Are thank you e-mails really that tacky? What about thank you texts? Couldn’t I just grunt from the couch?
• The DWP still has not come. The streetlight continues to buzz. It is making me and MJ both crazy. Is this why she is assuming the persona of a cat? Maybe I should too. Maybe it’ll calm me down…
• Meow?
• Nope. Still a wreck.