pseudo

In falling snow, I walked to the supermarket to buy bacon and eggs and prosciutto bread for breakfast. I cheerfully wished a good morning, with no sense of irony, to everyone I passed along the way. While perusing the goods in the bakery aisle, I encouraged myself to remember how happy I was at that moment because things would most likely change later.

Events of the previous night included the RK show at the Knit and the after-party at Mona's with the crew. Cab ride home was spent listening to the born-and-bred New Yorker discuss his knowledge of ska. Watched some cable but surprisingly, no VH1 Classic.

Later on Sunday, the unhappiness never arrived. Instead, movies were watched and fake meatballs were fried and pasta was boiled and tea was drunk and brain-busters were posed.

Awoke at 6 this morning to an irritating alarm. The snow had all melted away. It is, as Scarnsworth would say, the proverbial Monday morning.

Things are odd.