I tore my shirt sleeve this morning, but I was already at work so I couldn’t just change. Because my cubicle is a veritable ice box, I’d already been planning to bundle up with the black jacket that I keep on the back of my cubicle chair, but still. I started my workday annoyed.
But it could have been worse. A long-awaited check arrived and made me look good to my boss, there was a birthday party with cake, and I made progress on a handful of projects in spite of being distracted by a worrying message I received. (Without apology: It’s someone else’s personal business, so I won’t detail it here.)
During my commute, I’m always torn between reading stories and sleeping. Most days, seating is the deciding factor: If I get a seat, I sleep. If not, I read. Today was split: Sleep in the morning, reading in the afternoon.
Speaking of sleep, I need to do more of that. I’m going to try to go to bed early tonight. Meanwhile, I’ve a guest blog to polish, the bones of a short story to flesh, aaand probably some other stuff. I expect it’ll come to me just as I’m nodding off…