Did The Cat In The Hat come over on rainy days?

It’s Thursday and the weather has changed. St. Louis is cloud covered and rainy. I am congested and cold. I just drank a white fizzing tornado to sweep away the sinus pressure that has trailer parked behind my left temple. Moldering leaf spores poor sufferers who are longing for that first hard frost, to kill at will with chill that which is making us ill.

I’m not yet sure if it’s a do nothing day, but it sure feels that way now. I have to leave at some point to feed a friend’s fish on the house watch front. I need to get out of my stupor and be super, apply to grad schools and get my hands dirty on the book. I wanted to read background today, but the headache is in the way so we’ll see. I don’t seem to be able to do anything unless I make a list. Ben Franklin’s long organizational shadow falls upon my afternoon and I must consider the pros and cons of lateral drifting. How do you chart the art of procrastination?

Bastian hurt his leg on yesterday’s walk so we’re taking the day off from walking so his slight limp can right itself. I need to right myself too so I can better write myself. I went out with John last night and we rolled back in to his place around two thirty. I walked in my own front door at four thirty a.m. just as M.B. was getting up for the day. I’d been feeling a little soccer mom like and so decided to have one of “those” nights. It was
mostly mild and fun to be out. I don’t go out to bars much anymore, except when in the ville. My house is cheaper and you can hear yourself over the music. Though it is hard to meet anyone new in your living room.

The drugs are suggesting that I take a nap – so off to the afternoon slumber in what Mary H. has taken to calling, “my life of leisure”.

The last few Thursdays my stat counter has spiked, so for those of you checking back weekly, Thursday does seem to be a popular day for it. Thor’s Day, when the mighty hammer Mjolnir looms above the working week and all who would not honor Odin’s son, storm bringer, lightning flinger, show themselves to be fodder for Fenris The Wolf, or Virginia The Woolfe, or a whole slew of other wolves. Perhaps Tomas The Wolfe? There’s a good Tom Wolfe paraphrase from Look Homeward Angel in the opening scene of Before Sunset. Go rent it if you like.
It’s almost Friday – Frigg’s day – Odin’s wife and the protector of all things feminine. So soon you will be in the mead hall hurling axes at the memories of your workweek. Rejoice you laborers and cross this rainbow bridge into the Asgard of your weekend.