Monday Monday

I drove my father to the TV station where he's camping out today.

Strains of "Revolver" stream through my browser.

Um, um, what else? I forgive myself for looking a little ratty and drowned today. The heat wave is just passing.

Laundry is on the agenda for today. I need to pull together loose ends and make a fresh, new to-do list. I need to deal with a parking ticket someone with a similar license plate to mine racked up while I was out of town. The grant I might qualify for deserves looking into. And my legs need to be waxed. A freelance writing assignment needs to be finished and polished; while another one has died without a kill fee. Let me explain. It's not on me. The scientist who discovered the thing I'm supposed to write about wrote to me, saying essentially that no one has yet undertaken the primary research that would have allowed journalists to write the type of article I hastily undertook last week. The publisher's guidelines state clearly that this will sometimes happen and that, in this case, the article is killed (probably sans kill fee, which sucks because I put in the time.) It's just that, the publisher hasn't given me the final word on this particular case, which leaves me a little nervous. (What if they found another scientist? What if they decide not to support my decision?)

My depression has lifted a little, probably because it's around my 4th day on the rag. Anxiety and depression seem to lift the first day. I imagine it continues to dissipate throughout my period, but I don't really pay enough attention to know if I can expect that in general.

"Revolver" is one of my musical contemporaries, as I put it. Although it was released and charting around the time I was born, many of the songs were airplay-popular again a few years later, when the Beatles broke up. The album is a substantial part of my childhood.