Tuesday Bluesday

I'm in a foul mood today.

"How," you might ask, "is that any different than your mood any other day?"

And after I shoot you a look--known among my intimates as "the look," which has been known to make sturdy individuals wince, stop animals in their tracks and lower the temperature of the tristate area by at least 15 degrees--I probably wouldn't answer your inquiry with anything above a snarl.

As it is, Tuesday is my least favorite day of the week. It's just far enough away from the past weekend (which was just fine, as weekends go) for those two days to be a fading memory, and just far enough from the upcoming weekend to prevent the anticipation of those two days to be anything more than the faintest glimmer on the distant horizon.

It probably didn't help that when I stepped into my shower this morning, I found that the water flowing from my tap wasn't scalding, as it usually is, but frigid. My shower turned into a quick and painf...er, "bracing" scrubbing.

Then again, given that once on my morning train, I got many, many views of women in sundresses, the summer breezes gently pressing the fabric to their forms formerly hidden by many, many layers of outergarments in our far-too-frosty winter, reminding me yet again that not only have I not gotten any this decade, but also that I'm unlikely to unless willing/able to pay for it (I know--TMI), perhaps the full-on cold shower might have helped matters somewhat.

And the day has only gone downhill from there, with aggravations at work, unwanted information on the Internets and bad news on the doorstep (fare thee well, George Carlin).

Is it Friday yet?