I spilled things because of a brain fart (I like that term). The cardboard-y things are designed to fold out to become paintbrush boxes, and after they'd been glued we pack them into boxes. This job has SO MANY BOXES, and so many sizes, based on the many sizes of products produced at this bindery. And I thought Wait, is this box the wrong size? How do I decide to check? Lift up the box to see the job number printed on the bottom, FORGETTING THAT THE BOTTOM WASN'T TAPED YET. Yeah, I should have said "Stop! Is this the wrong size box?" Also yeah, I did a modified *headdesk*, though instead of a desk it was the box. Hard way to find out that yep, it was the wrong size box.
That kind of day. I'll say no more about the job part of it.
Things did get better, but of course my damn mood took a while to catch up. Moods race to bad and tromp sullenly towards good. Better things included my first pizza in maybe months, an 8-inch spinach mushroom at Pyro Pizza's location in the same pod as Big-Ass Sandwiches. (Meaning The Superpod! I like saying that.) Once I was home, I self-medicated, if you can medicate with hot, sugary tea and a pumpkin cookie.
Having a better night than day. That's now the goal.