Some Days

My day was a big slice of crap slathered with creamy crap icing. It was all different kinds of crap coming from every which a way.

This is the kind of day, where if I'd had it in October, I wouldn't have written about it at all.

I just would have gone to bed hoping that upon waking, the slice of crap, if it hadn't magically turned into beams of radiant joy, would be at least a little thinner.