How is it that dental floss never runs out? I mean, I use it daily yet I cannot remember the last time I bought dental floss. Nor can I gauge when I will need to next. Which makes floss, in my book, the gift that keeps on giving.

It’s kind of like Mary Poppins’ magical bag.

Mary Poppins' Magic Carpet Bag - Home | Facebook

I’m gently, methodically and cautiously pacing myself into Sunday.

Right now it’s coffee in my reading room with a Nate Bargatze podcast in the background. My faux fireplace is a glowin’ as I write this and hop back and forth into the NYTimes crossword.

Then in a few hours I’ll go over to Brother Drew’s to watch a wee bit of the game. I won’t stay too long so I can finish up a work project. Finally, as the sun sets, my plan is to absolutely avoid answering the phone beyond my call with Marty, or answering the door if anyone knocks.

So, what’s my deal?

Well, I’m crafting a solid Sunday because, frankly, Saturday sucked.

And when I say sucked I mean … Sucked like what a hoover does to dust … Sucked like what you do to air before you seal a ziplock bag … Sucked like what a humourless person does to a good time.

Oh, sure, it’s not like the roof leaked or I fell through the floor or I was sent to collections (and don’t think I’m not grateful for how safe I have it).

And sure, yesterday was about feelings, more specifically me feeling like an uninvited guest to a members-only event hosted by the community that pays my bills.

And sure, it’s about the high bar I set for myself, which Saturday placed so low that I metaphorically tripped over it and ripped my cape.

Grunge Superman by TheCosmicBeholder on DeviantArt | Superman, Grunge,  Anime comics

And, sure, Saturday MAY be all head.

But still, a bad day is bad day, and every once in awhile I get to have a bad day.

All I have to say to Saturday, in my finest Greta Thunberg voice and piercing stare, is the following:

How dare you?

How dare you suck Saturday.

You have NO right to be anything other than magnificent.


You stole my weekend.

You wasted 50% of time, and now have left it up to me to clean up your mess.

You failed me.

You are not my future.

I’m watching you.

So Saturday … get your shit together … and DON’T do THAT again.

Thank you.

I’ll be alright as long as I can still locate the funny.


Happy Sunday.

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