3-something am - I wake up. Alarm is set for a bit before 5 because of a call I’m expecting. Why did I wake up? No clue, but also no chance of falling back asleep.

Attempt to start coffee maker. Mr. Coffee evidently doesn’t approve of the hour because he doesn’t start up. I bargain, threaten and maybe cry a little and he finally sullenly starts. Coffee brews, but Mr. Coffee sounds like a gerbil trying to swallow a bowling ball. This is Not Good. With a last gasp, Mr. Coffee blurps out the last of the pot and promptly dies. Farewell, thou good and faithful servant! Crap. Now I have to buy a new coffee maker.

Head for the laptop, sit down and promptly spill half a cup of coffee in my lap. Think numerous naughty words and go to change pants.

Return to living room to find remaining half-cup of coffee that I set on the floor has been tipped over onto the rug by a rabbit who doesn’t approve of non-bunny-approved-objects on his floor. Can rabbits sneer? I swear he sneered at me. Go to fetch more towels. Naughty words become verbal.

Expected call happens more or less on time--a good thing. Bad thing--have to explain to other person for the 47th time how to open an email attachment. In small words. Hang up phone. Get more coffee.

Don’t spill the coffee this time. Get about two sips of it and find out some code I was testing has borked. To make a long story short, the code barfed three times in total. The other two were from my "fixes" when I managed to make typos. Coffee-lack is making itself felt.

Receive phone call. This one is from somebody in our computer club asking me, since it’s my turn, to call someone to help them with a computer problem. (One of the things our club does is volunteer to assist Seniors with computer repairs, teaching them how to use a computer for normal stuff, installing programs, hardware, etc.) I call Agnes (not her real name) once it’s normal-people’s-calling hours. She and her husband, Ignatz (also not his real name) have changed ISPs and need some help getting back online. I have worked with Agnes and her husband before, so, I ask the obvious question:

“Agnes, Ignatz is going to wear pants, right?”

Ignatz is long-since retired and somehow associates pants with having to go to work. They’re both in their right minds and all; Ignatz just doesn’t like wearing pants unless “forced” to (i.e. Agnes refuses to drive him anywhere pants-less). She allows as she doesn’t know for sure. I reiterate my former stance against assisting the pants-less. She argues back that he’s in his own home and not out in public. I counter-argue that, as a member of the public, I have certain pants-based expectations. Finally I ask her to put Ignatz on the phone and tell him,

“Four words, dude--no pants, no Internet.”

Battle won, I get back off the phone and find the rabbit has decided it’s “Tip Crap Over on the Rug Day” as his water dish (formerly, at least, a bunny-approved-object) is now empty, there’s a large spreading puddle and I am getting sneered at again. Go find a new roll of paper towels. Dredge up words I haven’t used in a very long time and am pretty sure I made up some new ones. Bunny is not moved by my erudition.

Head over the Agnes and Ignatz’s place. Discover that the laundry list of things they need help with was somewhat longer than “getting back online”. Included are installing a new disk drive, getting them reconnected to the Internet, installing 3 programs and getting a Gmail account set-up. Oh! And could I explain how “that Skype thing” works? When asked, Agnes admits not spilling everything they wanted help with because “I didn’t want to frighten you off”. On the plus side, Ignatz is, in fact, wearing pants, so I guess it’s all good.

Finish there. Go find a new coffee maker. Go home. I have now been up for 11 hours already and I’m a little afraid what else today has in-store. If anybody wants me, I’ll be hiding the in the closet. If you come over to check on me, don’t set anything on the floor because the rabbit is waiting...

Anybody else having one of those days? Spill. You'll feel better. Me? Still hiding. Luckily, connectivity in the closet is good.