Despite the thrill of my birthday, and my daughter’s birthday, and my husband’s birthday, and my friend Adrianne’s birthday, and Thanksgiving, and all the rest of it…how to say this? November sucks. I’ve spent the last two days staring out the window at the sort of weather that makes Indiana the character-builder it is. Leaden skies, chilly drizzle, dawn at 2 p.m., dusk about four minutes later. So you can see why my brain’s been empty as a bucket lately. It’s not depression, just…dormancy. You ask me, the bears get the best off winter. Zzzzz.
Oh, but why perk up? Every time I open a newspaper I just get pissed. My congressman’s a moron. David Brooks is a moron. And tomorrow will surely bring only the first in an unending string of thumbsuckers about Notre Dame and their damn coaching problems.
Wait. I’m off tomorrow. All riiiight.
And Ken Jennings lost tonight. All riiiiiiiight. Time for him to go spend his money. And he was beaten by someone named Nancy. Figures.
Back to the grim. Let’s try for something tomorrow.