It took 40-some-odd miles, and 6 or 7 onramps, but I finally shook the crappy mood I'd been in most of the afternoon and evening.
There are 11 hairballs in the hallway outside my apartment, visible from my doorway. There are four others in the staircase leading up to my floor. And due to crosswinds and air pressure effects, one found its way under my door into my apartment. All of them are from the piano-playing cat across the hall.
Early in the morning a couple of days ago I had a dream that I was giving Carmella Soprano advice about credit cards. Tony was there, but didn't say much.
Today is the longest day (and shortest night) of the year. Which means the days start getting shorter.
I read a compilation of letters and emails by servicemen and -women in Iraq that appeared in a recent New Yorker. (The article itself doesn't seem to still be online, but there's a related multimedia presentation of some of the pieces, read by the authors.) Boy, do I feel discouraged about the shit-soup Our Gubmint has cooked up for us over there.
I wish mis-aimed headlights could be added to the list of evils that threaten Our Nation. You know, so we could wage war on it.