I wish I could tell you how many great things I accomplished today, but my major triumph was getting out of bed before noon. And I didnít hang myself from the rafters because of despair over the miserable weather. That was good, too.
It would be wrong to celebrate these achievements, however. After all, if Iím going to define myself by what I didnít do, I could also point out that I didnít get hammered on Jose Cuervo and shoot out the lights, or max out my credit card on unnecessary plastic items. What I did do: nothing productive. I rather enjoyed the finishes of the Raiders-Chiefs game and the NASCAR race, but other than that: nothing much.
Naturally, I blame myself. Thatís fairly easy when nobody else kept me awake until four oíclock in the morning. I did it. I started watching a movie at 1:30 am. And I kept listening to the Classic Rock Vault radio station on Rhapsody, song after song, just because whatever song was playing at the time was one I couldnít bring myself to turn off. I therefore was the one to blame for making it necessary for me to lounge lethargically through a rainy Sunday.