one: that the world is a disturbingly dank and depressing place
two: i tend to write when i'm in a bad mood
i lean towards two. The sun is rising over the Coop's surrounding woods and the ragged remnants of T-storm Hannah have moved on to worry someone else's weather forecasters and few others. The light is tinted warm. The air is cool and clean. The Cricket Philharmonic is performing an operetta with the Avian Dawn Choir. Even the Tabasco Cat is at peace. There is much to be appreciative of on a quiet Sunday morning. i just put down a marvelously dull and amateurish novel that gives me great hope of someday being published or at least the renewed belief that there is a need for better reading material. Though it does raise concerns for a culture and society that would publish such drivel. My family is healthy, mostly happy and sleeping soundly. The coffee's good. The bills are paid and the Iggles play at one.
So what's to complain about?