Day 77: It hasn't exactly been a "Murphy" day because nothing has gone too terribly wrong, but neither has it been a day of any particular accomplishment. Is it the post-Christmas blahs making me feel this way? Can I blame it on age? Can it be attributed to the somewhat gloomier-than-usual PNW weather? A combination of the three? A little Mozart, a silly song, a tordion or spagnioletta brightens my mood for the length of time it takes to play it, and then I begin circling the drain again, thinking it might be a good time to go back to bed even though I just had lunch. Why do the holidays tax us so, even when we aren't burdened with meal prep and guests? And why do we permit ourselves to be so affected? More importantly, where are my bootstraps that I might lift myself up by them? I know I should find relief with music, but instead, I seek solace in the cookie jar, lured the siren melody of spritz and chocolate chips.
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