Another contribution of the low evening might be that I ripped my new jeans. I bent down to get something for Z, and I heard a huge rip. I never thought this day would come. I want to wrap myself in sack cloth and wail at the gates of the city.
Okay, I am done feeling sorry for myself. I would go drown my sorrows in ice cream, but the whole jeans incident kind of put a damper on that feeling. For the next five minutes.