Numb: From the Siberian chill here (low 30s F, around zero C), but also, earlier today, from the "numbing jell" my very expensive Manhattan dental hygienist spread on my gums. And from the fact that I'm hellish busy -- too busy to feel much except, well, busy. Nevertheless:
Sad: From cogitating about the grief of 30 years ago this date, and for all the melodious virtu we've probably missed because of it.
Inspired: I have the germ of an idea for yet another breviloquent literary narration, suitable for online consumption this time. This will explore a recent theme familiar to readers of this persiflage. Perhaps I will write it this weekend. The problem yet to be resolved is the denouement.
Stupid: Insanity looms. I washed the wrong sack of laundry. I left the house this morning without my laptop (and had to reverse course). I went out of my way and wasted my time to scrutinize the Rockefeller Center tannenbaum -- which of course is a doppelganger for last year's capacious shrub and every year's. Humbug.
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