Bar-stalgia

This weekend was gray and rainy and cold and most unlike Colorado. It was, in fact, a close personal friend of upstate New York, which I very cleverly failed to realize until I was in my office moping and staring out the window on Monday. "Some holiday," I grumped, "stupid work." I tried to think about what I would like to be doing instead of working (always a terrible idea), and realized that I wanted to be in a dark wooden bar, drinking beer and playing a board game with my friends. In other words, I wanted to pretend I was still in law school. It makes perfect sense to me now that I've realized it was the evil weather at work, but honestly, yesterday I was in a full sulk.

I was mad that no good bar exists in Fort Fun (that I know of), I was dramatically sighing about not having any friends to go to the bar with even if there was such a place (where you at Coop and Batista?), I was extra super crabby that even if I had a bar or friends, I had to work anyway, and on and on and on. Is it possible to have Seasonal Affective Disorder after two days?

No time for whiny baby moodiness today - I have been really busy (again, some more), and therefore have no time to miss the Chapter House. Or Micawber's. Or Stella's. Damn, I loved Ithaca.