Testy

Gridlock is a vampire. I get as tired sitting in traffic as I do after a good workout, but the sensation is completely different. There's no aching muscle, or adrenaline coursing through your body. There just a long, low sucking sound as your soul vacates the body and smears into the road along with the souls of thousands of other motorists, mixed with exhaust fumes and rubber.

I hope Heatray had a good warmup to his birthday at Bukowski's, and I was glad to see Atomweaver afterwards, though we didn't get to have a game. I did play eventually (two Ahrimane decks next to each other? what are the odds?), but there was no dancing to be had. I was the living dead before I started the card game, and was only worse afterwards. As is usual this week, I lay down to sleep, and promptly couldn't, until past one.

Now it's almost ten. I'd forgotten my wallet and drove home through snarls of traffic to recover it, getting to work late despite my best of intentions. It's hard to keeep from snarling, and I've let myself get dragged into stupid flame wars over a stupid issue. This morning is starting out like sour milk. Time to pour out the glass, clean it, and find something fresher.