Blech.

You know those days when everything seems gray? Grey?
It's one of those days.
I only want to eat Rold Gold pretzel sticks and drink Arizona tea.
Everything looks bleak.
No energy can be mustered.
Mustard?
And the people who usually cheer you up seem annoying and frivolous.
So you lie (lay?) on the porch of the duplex your parents own, but nobody lives in, covered in dust because the porch hasn't been swept in weeks, and pity yourself.
And read the diary of Anne Frank.
It's quite pathetic really.
Then you get bloated from all the pretzels.
And hope tomorrow is better.