rage sabbatical

The rage sabbatical is going well. Exhaustion, apathy and the return of my sense of humor have pretty much smothered the embers of fury. Or banked them.

My dear friend Joe suggested I read gofugyourself.com, after I made a particularly lascivious remark about the ravishing Helen Mirren. (I'm not 100% about the connection but it's beside the point.) My god, what a bitchy funny blog. This delighted endorsement is a window into my warped persona. You can tell so much about a person from the things that really amuse them. I've been reading and wheeze-laughing for hours.

Barbara and I are currently fighting the hate-grocery-shopping/ must-go-grocery-shopping battle. And we're going down in flames. Sucked into the warm, welcoming oatmeal of inertia. What is up with this? The weather's finally nice and we're only shopping for the two of us...yet, it's as if we've come down with agoraphobic lethargy. Don't get me wrong, it's not pathological yet--we're bathing and all. It would be creepy if it weren't so womblike. Okay, that's kind of creepy.