and all was well.

tuesday morning: woke up feeling crappy. went to work. worked. had brief, futile debate with managing editor about the dubious ethics and general distastefulness of using previously published research from one journal to meet page count of a different journal without telling the authors we were using their work or telling the readers the work had been published previously, by us. felt crappy.

tuesday afternoon: left work feeling crappy. parked car in moat of slush interspersed with rock-solid chunks of ice. found recycling bin in street alongside three or four items apparently deemed unworthy of recycling by the city's crew. slipped on ice picking them up. felt crappy (and wet).

tuesday evening: went to see the lemonheads at the paradise. read an excellent short story by cate kennedy, called "black ice," in between opening acts; felt better.

tuesday night: rocked out like a fool to the lemonheads for just under an hour and a half. clapped my hands and hopped up and down like a small child being presented with a gingerbread house big enough to live in at the start of every song i recognized (i.e., every song), amusing the gentleman to my right no end. realized my own happiness had inspired mirth in others. felt awesome. skipped and danced down the street to my car to the tune of "great big no," the rhythm warming all my insides like sunshine jelly. found a dry place to park. fell asleep grinning like an idiot, with my ears not even ringing.

wednesday morning: woke up with small black cat draped over my entire face, her bony right elbow digging into my surprisingly pain-free jaw. realized my eyes were clear and i could breathe normally. upon leaving the apartment, saw that all of the ice had melted from my front steps and sidewalk. at work, did not have expected instructions from boss to revamp year-old articles for sneaky reprinting. heard birds chirping sweetly from sun-warmed rooftop outside window.

it's an old story, but i'll tell it again: evan dando fixes everything. perhaps he's a god of something other than rock. at the very least, i intend to go on worshiping him as my private household deity, as he's done me nothing but good over the past fifteen years. if only i'd thought to throw myself a dance party a week ago, we might never have had to suffer through these long, dark days of numbing separation. no matter--i am healed. a round of applause for mr. dando and all of his magical, medicinal qualities. and i bow my head gratefully to all of you, as well; your support has been tremendously appreciated. we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming, already in progress.

. . . so screw you, inhofe, you impossibly ignorant madman! three cold days does not a climate make! try running this great machine called america with both of your eyes swollen shut, you crazy fool.