It was a gray, rainy day today. For Tucson, especially this late in the year, that’s a very strange thing. It rained almost constantly from the time I got up until I went to bed, and I’m sure it started much earlier the night before.
It was one of those days when I feel like the only thing really worth doing is making a big mug of tea (of maybe café latte) curling up in bed with wife, puppies, and blankets, and tuning into a nice Raymond Chandler or Dennis Lahane novel.
Work, especially with the most recent set of crises, is a distant runner-up.