What day is it?
I have a major wiggins this morning, and am having trouble pinpointing its source. Though all the acronymed resources on which I rely (NPR, PDA, PC) insist it's Friday, I can't shake the feeling I've accidentally come to work on a Saturday. Perhaps the stories of the east coast blackout seeped into my dreams, reminding me of the carefree powerless days on Guam post-typhoon, and the newscasters encouraging New Yorkers not to go to work today aren't helping. Plus my mom's visiting and I have to take my car to the shop this afternoon (which, though I'm confident in most arenas, my fear of being gouged has been unnerving me all week). Or maybe it's that I've been watching too much Buffy the Vampire Slayer
lately. I think I might have dreamed of being stressed about having to rid the world of demons, and my dream-stess merged with my work-stress, causing my synapses to go all haywire.