Monday. Blue.

After spending the entire weekend in pajamas all doped up on Sudafed, I can report that I am mostly better. And after actually styling my hair today, I discovered that I had some random renegade bangs that need trimming. When I lounge around in flannel pajamas, the only effort I make with my hair is coordinating the color of the ponytail holder with what I'm wearing. Rather than taking it upon myself to take scissors in hand and deal with said hairs, I stopped in to see my hair professional, Diane. She fixed me up in seconds. My hands are particularly cranky today and were even more so after a 45 minute PT session. I find myself dangling what ifs all over the place while I wait for the results of my FCE. Then I tell myself to stop doing that, and actually do stop. For a while. Really, all I have to do is open up My Sister, My Love by Joyce Carole Oates to forget about my own life. The Rampike family has their own creepy twist for putting the fun in dysfunction and makes me feel sane, normal and boring after just a couple of pages. Still no word on my current round of writing submissions. Think I'll take my particularly cranky hands upstairs, have a bedtime glass of wine, and work on adjusting my attitude. Believe it or not, drinking wine requires much, much less manual dexterity than typing.