Pandora is rolling through the good stuff tonight. We just jumped from The Decemberists to the Boss. I'm not sure how they ended up on the same station, but I'm certainly not complaining.
I kind of want to write a "Dear Diary" post about my day, but I'm afraid that it would suck and that I'd get up tomorrow morning and read it and then spend the rest of the day in shock at how self absorbed and superficial I can be about the things that upset me. Suffice it to say that today was not a great day and spent a good portion of it with my head in my hands and now I'm sitting here on my couch, drinking tea, listening to good music, and wondering what all the fuss was about. I suppose that one of the privileges of age is the right to be dramatic about crap, but I don't think I'm that old yet. It's not like I'm ready to be the old lady at the grocery store who freaks out because her coupon is expired.
Another day winding down and another post with no point. My favorite kind. Maybe this whole exercise would be more cathartic if I quit looking for one.
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