Something has me spooked, and I think I know what it is. I’m spooked about the future. Not the long range future, which is spooky enough but too vague a concept to have me jumping out of my skin. I’m spooked by the immediate future, two short four-day work weeks in a row followed immediately by the end of the year, with all that implies. I can’t look six months or five years ahead and see anything clearly. But I can look into the first part of January and see the specter of clocks spinning too fast and walls closing in.

So I spent my Sunday in ghostbusting mode, trying at least to get caught up with last week’s to-do list. It would have been better to get a head start on the week ahead, but you have to get rid of the ghosts before you can start worrying about the zombies. Or something like that. What does that make January, a full-on alien invasion? Bring it on. If I can make it through two straight four-day astral weeks, I can handle the end-of-the-year war of the worlds. (I wouldn’t mind it if the earth stood still for awhile, though.)

And now, just for fun, we have rain in the forecast all week, which leads to mud, which leads to me wanting to crawl even further into my cave. I think I’d love the holidays more if they were (a) more spread out, and (2) not crammed into the nastiest weather of the year.