I just made a list of a bunch of things that I wish I could do today while at work, but it included things like "wear pajamas" and "dance to loud music" and "not answer the phone", so I think really I wish I was at home. I'm not in a bad mood, really, just bored. And waiting for the sun to come out. Someday it will be back, right? Right? Because if this fog continues, I fear I shall eventually become like that girl in the Bradbury story that I Will Never Read Again.
Apparently 14 years is not too long to remain affected by a piece of fiction one has read only once. Granted, I will hold a grudge against Herman Melville for Billy Budd for the rest of my life, but that's a different thing entirely.
Run up the down elevator, boy!
They can't catch you if you swing your hips just right.
But don't pause to catch your breath,
Or the jackals will tear at your patent leather shoes.