November gets me down. I've never bought the idea of a cruel April: the cruel month is November, or maybe February. At least in February the days are getting longer, and you know there will be crocuses in a few weeks.
It was gray all day with intermittent spatters of cold rain, and I'm in a matching mood. I've been trying to buck myself up to no avail. If it weren't NaBloPoMo I would have just gone to bed, but here I am with your daily dose of Gloooooom. Vitamin G, let's call it.
This morning I was getting an unusual amount of traffic from Facebook, linking to the post I mentioned here and finished last night. Usually I love it when that happens. I think, "Hi, new visitors!" and send cheery cyber-waves in their direction. Today I thought, "Is there a cave I could hide in? Because I just do not have it in me to deal with a comments brouhaha today." I decided it was wiser to send the post back to my drafts folder than to go on a spur-of-the-moment spelunking expedition. Maybe I'll put it back up when the sun comes out.
Stella took a monster nap today and was not at all tired when bedtime rolled around. I have changed CDs for her about fifteen times in the writing of these four paragraphs. (I know I am given to exaggeration, but fifteen is actually pretty accurate. She likes to listen to the first 45 seconds of a song and then request a new one.) She is finally slowing down, nursing in my lap. Oh, and she is cute even when I'm ready to slip her a little laudanum. (Wholesome, organic laudanum, of course.) She kicked her foot into the desk with a fair amount of force. Still nursing, she grabbed the foot and drew it up to her mouth so she could kiss it better herself. She's an independent little thing.
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