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1:21 p.m. - February 16, 2004
Melancholia gets a bum rap
A fine day to be off: Overcast and dark, sprinkles here and there, heat turned up, chicken soup with noodles for lunch, blue sweatshirt and jeans with extra thick socks rounding out the picture.

Ordering books and DVDs, itching for something chocolatey-gooey, viewing the To Do list with disdain: Invoices, laundry, emails to the dean in Washington, D.C. and Bathsheba, maybe Rob if I feel like it, investigate software requirements for digitizing VHS to DVD.

In other words: When I do not have anything specifically to do, I don't know what to do with myself. I am uncomfortable during these times, cannot enjoy inertia, leisurely swim in melancholy.

A discomfiting thought, discomfiting solely because I protest the reality pro forma: I wish the group therapy was on tonight.


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