Insert Perversely Cheerful Title Here

Good morning, friends. I’d written a few sentences already in an aborted attempt at light-hearted humor, but I don’t feel funny, and I don’t feel light, and each sentence just got smashed to bits by the Double-Headed Sledge Hammer of Doom. To be honest, I feel depressed - and disconnected - and insulated. Even though my hair has looked fabulous the last couple days, I feel really, really, really down.

I HATE that. I suppose, when I start feeling sad, the best thing to do is take care of the thing that niggles at me the most. Today that would be yardwork (see: 12′ blanket of dried leaves), and general household cleanup, and possibly - possibly - preparing to put up Christmas decorations. After years of halfhearted yet hopeful searching, I finally found tiny gold Christmas lights, so this year we’ll have a gorgeously amber-lit tree. I might add red lights, too. I haven’t decided.

I found the lights at Lowe’s Hardware, tucked in and among all the boring old whites, reds, greens, and multis. At first I grabbed five boxes but then decided to go back and get another five, just because, you know, I’d FINALLY FOUND THEM, but when I returned to the light aisle it was as if the entire 92654 zip code had suddenly decided to buy lights, too. After a deep breath, I elbowed my way through the burbling hordes, knocked over one old lady, stepped on somebody’s foot, and I’m pretty sure hit somebody else in the face with my purse when I reached up for the last box - Merry Christmas to them - but, dammit, I got my lights.

Well, no, I wasn’t that bad. Except for the purse thing, I was nice. Christmas shopping is bad enough without a bunch of Scrooges running hither and yon. People are so stressed this time of year. Life is hard, but it IS fascinating, isn’t it? I was just thinking yesterday that there’s so much I don’t know, and can’t possibly know, and never will know. Like, the veracity of the superstring theory, or why people are instantly attracted to certain people and not others, and why some people would actually believe the Illuminati are reptile-aliens disguised as men, when they’re clearly one 50-yr-old woman from Cincinnati, name of Fran. Oh well. I hope you guys have a great day. kisses, all! xo