The Five Stages...

I finished a short story. This is the first story I've written (started and completed) since the vile one won the election.

I might be emerging from the depression stage. MAYBE.

Whether it's a good story or not, meh -- I'm still deep enough in the depression stage that everything looks terrible. But it's a competent story, and it's finished. I'll take that.

The trouble with leaving depression is that I'm supposed to move onto the acceptance. And frankly, yeah, I don't see how to do that. Accept Trump as our president? What are you, nuts?

Theory of the Leisure Class

I sit down to write.

• The cat wants fed.
• The dog wants out.
• The kid wants a grilled cheese sandwich, which I make better than anyone.
• The dog wants in.
• The laundry wants folding.
• The dog wants out.
• The other cat wants water (she will only drink out of the faucet, set to trickle).
• The dog wants in.
• The kid says the sandwich was wonderful, could she have another?
• The laundry wants moved to the dryer.
• The dog wants out.
• The cat is bored.
• What about all those midterms I still have yet to grade?
• The dog wants in.
• Dr. Skull wonders what we're having for dinner.