Today’s plan includes productive work.  If I don’t crank the handle and make a little music the monkey won’t know it’s time to dance.  Work, work, work.  I say that out loud, like whipping words to get me moving.

The beautiful / terrible thing about yesterday afternoon is that while I sat here redesigning this nonsense, I was able to accomplish not one tiny bit of house cleaning.  But it’s not like my eyes popped open and I looked around and thought I was in Hell.  It’s not that messy in here.  More like . . . my eyes popped open and I looked around and thought I had been reincarnated as the committee head for cheap suit inspections down at the local Kingdom Hall of Sweet Mother of Jevohah Can It Get Any Stranger Then This.

But it’s a small congregation, meek and scared.  Very easy to keep in line.  Watch.

“Hey!  That’s not polyester!  And wipe that smirk off your face!  You’re about this close to excommunication.  Or maybe you’re begging for a little eternal damnation?!  You wish you were so lucky.  No, no, no, not you mister.  No, for you, it’s a day of gardening in the freezing rain!”