I don’t know what it is about Tuesdays. I can’t imagine why it’s the worst day of the week for me. But I know it’s Tuesday by how much my heart hurts, as soon as I’m conscious. I don’t think, “Oh, it’s Tuesday,” and get upset. I hurt, then realize that means it’s Tuesday.
I thought about blogging yesterday, but chose to leave my head stuck in a book. Lois McMaster Bujold, if you’re wondering. Seriously great stuff, but I’ve read it before, so not as distracting as it could be. Still, it gets me through.
There’s nothing new on any front. I suppose that should be good news. No one has come up with a new way to harass the recently widowed lately–or at least, if they have a plan, they haven’t sprung it on me yet.
I’m going to mindlessly stamp some envelopes (I’m at work) then stick my nose back in my book. Fortunately for my continued employment, they’ve been very understanding about my needs to escape reality frequently.