I’m feeling a bit rebounded from the blues that I had last night, thanks for asking (i’m being sarcastic, shhhhh.. so quiet around here .. anyone sick of this blog as much as me?)

I still have this remarkable and unsettling free-fall feeling when I think about the turmoil around me. I wish there were something I could do to ease the pain of my beloved friends. A big psychic eraser would come in really handy right now, or real-life UNDO button. Let’s just reverse a little bit, back to when everyone was healthy, and hold it there, shall we?

Anyway. It was so very hot in the office today, just withering. My plodding workday included unlocking various doors for the rodent exterminator to “clear the traps” (good god), finding out what it’s going to take my websites to play nicely with the new version of WordPress (answer: a whole fuckload of swearing), and whining at my boss (what else is new).

Finally, I sprung myself, like one of my rodent colleagues. And I hit the streets and indulged in what is cringeingly referred to as “retail therapy.” Yup, I shopped. And it was fantastic and it made me feel better.

And I didn’t stop there with the stereotypical behavior. I went home and drank a painfully sweet cocktail (whiskey with lemon sorbet and ice!), cried through a few eps of Six Feet Under and ate pie right out of the tin with the closest spoon to my hand, which was a really big spoon.