serinde

There were some salubrious moments this morning--e.g., I found the cable for my MP3 player, so I could charge it (and load more stuff on) for use today; the dry cleaner managed to get the coffee stains out of my deconstructionist blouse, which I am also using today; I sorted out my backlog of (postal) mail, which I meant to do yesterday but was feeling too icky--but there were bee swarms. Mostly self-inflicted, I admit. Sorting the mail took a lot of time, more than I really could afford after hitting snooze twice. Finding my cable was good, but I got sucked into the usual trap of obsessively coping Yet More Songs onto the player. I'd...not forgotten, but failed to come up with an alternative for, what to use to carry my tons of STUF since my (new!! well, only about 4 month old, anyways) bag's strap broke last week. I figured that, at least for the time being, I'd use the cool reversible one I got from C21 (it is puckishly polka-dotted one way, and staid leather the other), as it's not actually that much smaller. But it fails irredeemably in two ways: 1) It doesn't fit my notebook, being just a little too short, and 2) the magnetic closure is seriously weak and does not stay closed when there is any weight at all in the object. This may be only a mild irritation, but not when you are on crowded trains and would prefer that your STUF is not offered up to any incompetent pickpocket; and doubly not when it is raining LIKE IT IS TODAY ahem. So I dithered about that for awhile, but didn't have much choice, so.

(Let me take this moment to express my gratitude to

naudia for making breakfast. I would have been in much worse state without hot food in my belly.)

Naturally, therefore, it was a day for Judas Priest. By happy coincidence, "Metal Works" and "Angel of Retribution" were both among the morning's transfers. In spite of being on the 8am train, which sucks mightily and is the main impetus for me to catch an earlier train even though I can usually make it on time with the later one, by the time we hit Secaucus I was in a much better frame of mind, because how can you not be after half an hour of Rob Halford's musical pep talks?

Note to Gen-Yers: This is why we will forever be kicking your asses up one side of the street and down the other. Our teenage-alienation songs are about being lone freedom fighters against the robotic soldiers of oppressive totalitarian regimes. Yours are about huddling in the corner sobbing because your mommies didn't love you enough. MAN UP, YOU BIG GIRL'S BLOUSES.