Daffodils Should Be Available Year-Round

And carnations should only be used for funerals. Here's a hint, by the way: don't give me a carnation. (My mom's family has a big ol' superstitious aversion to carnations, and while I may not believe in heaven or purgatory or ghosts or seven years of bad luck, I do believe in family superstitions.)

(One day I will might write a book about my family. And there will be a chapter devoted to these superstitions.)

Today proved that 24 hours can make a big difference — as can a change of scene. After nearly four days cooped up by myself in my apartment, wallowing in my sorrows, violently coughing up phlegm, watching Veronica Mars and eating pancakes, I was near ready to ... well, joking's not a good idea, but I was in a pretty bad state of mind. I have two paragraphs of a depressing blog post started in my "Draft Posts" file, and thankfully I don't feel like finishing it.

This tells me I really should get out more, if a day at the office and then an hour spent punching things at Krav can give me a complete 180 on my mood. That's all it takes? Imagine what something fun and indulgent can do.

By the way: I am trying. I promise. It's just hard because, dammit, I know the difference.

And there's a quick burst of rain passing by my window, telling me it's time to shut things down and lie there listening until I fall asleep. I'm coming, Tlaloc.