There was a moon last night. I failed to see it. Sounds like a memoir title. Or a song.
By tomorrow, it shall be done. Today even. Maybe. All depends on how quickly I can bleed this week’s stone. And if anything else might end up happening today.
So, what woes compel you this day? This week? What convinced you to peel yourself from bed and suffer all the consequences that come subsequent? Why (said in fear of sounding redundant) doth thou bother? Well, lunch plans were made. And I did agree to work an extra shift tonight. And I have much work…
‘Tis here. Again. Dreary weather. Aggressive commercialism. Synthesized prerequisites for communal happiness. And all the wonderful reminders of your own loneliness, a fear in perpetuity. Bah humbug, as said the classic holiday scapegoat. Not the green furry one. The one that’s pretty much C. Montgomery Burns, but in England and more covered in coal dust.