Monday

"Cross" is the only word for me today. And maybe "cranky." It's rainy, the temperature's dropped about 20 degrees in two hours, but I still don't get the benefit of at least having snow as the precipitation du jour. I'm behind on laundry and not interested in catching up. It took forever for me to fall asleep last night, just humming to myself in the dark, positive that the next gust of wind was going to remove a slate or the weathervane or one of those tentatively-attached limbs over the driveway. When I woke up this morning, it was from a dream of listing endless pages of auction consignments. Christmas shopping and wrapping is done, so I'm at the stage where I'm just worrying over money spent, which is compounded by the dread of estimated tax payments. I'd rather be reading the new novel I started last night or sitting around in my pajamas and watching Remember the Night, but here I am, neatly dressed so as not to scandalize any shipping agent who might be delivering package. And I'm stuck with the dull work of finishing up a newsletter, which mostly just feels like "blah, blah, blah" at this point, which my cynical self says won't even get read. And to top it all off, someone had the chance to throw shoes at the current president and they missed. AND this happened while The Daily Show was on hiatus. Tell me again why I got out of bed?