What A Day

What a friggin' day.
Decided to go over to Ocean City early for the Bloomsday reading, so left about 11:00.  On the parkway, it occurred to me to stop at Betty's first; I did, but she wasn't home and didn't answer her cell. 
Well, no prob, I thought, I'll just continue on to O.C., meet Flossi, and get the lay of the land.  After a few wrong turns, I found the library where I was to read, a large, newly built, rather ugly complex.  Went in and saw that a museum is part of it.  Asked at the desk and--
--they had never heard of Bloomsday.  And told me the library didn't open until 1:00.  What?  Flossie had said there'd be music and food at noon, so what gives?  Waited around until the library opened and found the staff had never heard of Bloomsday, either (geez, it's a library; guess there are no Joyce fans there) and there wasn't any such event scheduled there.  A clerk was kind enough to call Flossi, whom they all seemed to know.  There was no answer and apparently, no answering machine.  I went to their computer center, put "Bloomsday, Ocean City, NJ" in and found no mention of the event anywhere, except from two years ago, when it was held at the OC Repertory Theatre, about two miles down the island.  With no other options I could see, I drove down there.  It's in a storefront, but was locked up tight.
Parked and finally got Flossi on the phone:
F:  "Uh...I sent you an e-mail last night that I cancelled because I didn't have enough readers, what with Father's Day and all."
Me:  "I check my e-mail every morning and I didn't get any such message."
F.: "Well, maybe I put it on Facebook."
Me:  "I looked at the P & P page where the invitation to read appeared and it wasn't there."
F.:  "Maybe it was on some other page."
Me.: "?"
F.:  "Or maybe I was thinking I sent it to you, but sent it to somebody else."
Aagh!
But to cut the whole damn thing short:  I got over my annoyance (read "homicidal rage") and said I'd call her later and we'd arrange a date to meet, which we did--next Monday at Italian Gourmet, assuming she shows up.
In the meantime, I was able to get to sister Betty, who had planned to come to the reading, and tell her the news.  We arranged to meet at Applebee's in Somers Point, we did, and Muckie joined us. Had a fun, convivial lunch, then parted.
By that time, it was almost 4:00 and I was due then at Susan's to go to a neighbor's house and look at a 52-inch T.V.  Called her to postpone and got in a half hour later.  We went to the guy's house--he lost his wife and moved to Florida; Susan is the selling agent--and I saw the T.V.  Not sure if I want it or not.
Home, I got a lot of phone calls made, including to Bobbi C, who a talker and had me on the phone for about 40 minutes.  Incredibly, it was 8:00 by the time I finished.  Had my left-over spaghetti with my wine, came across 19 Kids And Counting, which I had never seen before, and watched for a half hour.  I was mesmerized by the totally bizarre premise and the people in it.  Even the little kids seem to be throwbacks from the 1950s, always neatly dressed, with hair slicked down, and absolutely positive this is the best of all possible worlds.  Unlike Gerald Celente, my current hero, they use no dirty words.