It is a dark and dreary Monday, and I’m stuck sitting in traffic. The train is packed, which suggests that many saw the rainclouds and (like me) determined not to join the throngs splashing along on I-5. Usually this train moves along briskly, but today we seem to have lost priority and must wait patiently on some freight train or other. Not that I’m eager to get to work … on a day like this, people should all stay home and enjoy a good book in front of the fire.
I remember some job I had in which I always had Mondays off … that seems a very good way to live, as I recall. Working on Mondays is like waking up at 2:30 a.m. … it just isn’t right. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say,
“Yep, I got plenty of rest and enjoyed myself all weekend. Whooo-eee — it is good to be back at work today!”
I suppose there are some who feel that way, but I hope not to meet such people, at least not today when I feel so gloomy.
Seattle is a beautiful place to live, but not in early December. The ugly warehouses and industrial detritus that we pass do little to lift the soul or inspire the poet. It seems a stark contrast to the blaze of lights and Christmas decorations we enjoyed last night as I finally set up the tree … definitely this part of Seattle could use some Christmas cheer.
He always was a snappy dresser.
I guess this day can’t be all bad — it is the birthday of my favorite brother. Happy birthday, Mark!
