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There should be a word for that moment when you wake up on a work daylook at the clock, and realize that you could sleep for another hour. And entire hour. Even though you’re mostly awake, you turn over and curl into a ball beneath the covers and fall back asleep.

Then the alarm goes off and you’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open. You somehow get the coffee pot working and hope you can stay awake long enough to grab your first cup as soon as there’s enough coffee to do so. There should also be a word for that moment when the coffee pot beeps that it’s done long before it should have and you realize that, while you managed the filter and coffee part all right, you completely forget to put water in the tank.

This week’s post will probably be a little weak (ha ha). I had thought about starting off by describing the amount of actual hate I feel towards my cell phone. I was going to go into every nuance of the device’s malfunctioning. I was going to describe the intense feeling of loathing I felt for it and how I threw it on my desk in the hopes that it would shatter, explode, into thousands of plastic and glass shards. And then I remembered that I wasn’t going to complain about anything anymore and had to drop that idea.

Afterwards, I thought about posting an “Austin, TX Driving Test” thing where I would have questions like:

“You see a sign that says: Lane ending Merge Left; you move into it anyway. Now you are thirty feet from the end of the lane. There is traffic behind you, but the closest car is leaving plenty of room for you to move back because he knows you’re a complete ass. Do you:

(A) Speed up slightly and move back into the lane that you just left
(B) Keep riding on the shoulder for no good reason
(C) Move halfway back into the lane you just left and then slam on the brakes for no sane reason whatsoever.

But I could see how that might be considered a form of complaining, also.

Then, of course, there’s Valentine’s Day but I don’t think I can even mention the words without it sounding like a complaint.

This leaves me in a bit of a quandary. Such a quandary, in fact, that I started having feelings of scrapping this blog, entirely. Not just the weekly entry but the whole damn thing. Long time readers will recognize these words because I say them at least once a year. But you also know it’s a hollow threat and that I get a perverse pleasure at having the least read blog on the Internet.

You know, I don’t think I can not complain. That might be the reason why I have very few readers. I mean, who wants to read that all the time? On the other hand, without the constant complaining I don’t have much to do.

Sometimes when I wake up I have words in my head. Like:

“Twist and turn and spin
on the outside, looking in”


“Those are workin’ words. But don’t worry,” says I, “when we need ’em, they’ll be fightin’ words.”

I’m not sure if they’re mine or not. Sometimes they sound like literature is about to happen.

I suppose everyone is waiting for a venomous spew about Valentine’s Day. But, no, that’s an easy target. I hadn’t thought about it before but this is one of three artificial holidays meant to make you feel bad about yourself. By artificial I mean that there is no significance behind them, they were made for the sole reason of making money. They’re all kind of related, too. This unholy trinity would be, then, Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, and Mother’s Day.

Sometimes you just don’t have a choice in the matter. For instance, I was brought up in a Catholic household. I don’t celebrate Hanukkah, but there’s nothing preventing me from converting to Judaism and then celebrating it. Same for any religious holiday, I suppose.

Anyone can “celebrate” President’s Day or observe Memorial Day.

But you need to meet certain criteria to celebrate the other three. And sometimes those criteria are out of your control. I guess it’s the same for all advertising.

And that’s all I have to say on the matter, there.

I mean, you can’t choose to be someone’s significant other. Okay, maybe you can; I can’t. Some people were just born unlucky that way.


The more I use the WordPress editor, the more I can’t stand it. It never does what I want, even when using the HTML editor. And, yes, this is a complaint. It sucks.

So, there you go. It’s Saturday, I have no plans, it’s raining, this editor sucks, and I’m shy of the 1,000 words I was hoping for.