. . . then Friday was Unbearaborrible

After such a great day Thursday (though admittedly that in the heart of a pretty stressful week), Friday was a mess. The kind of day a girl should never get out of bed. And there was no huge tragedy. No death. No job loss. No big break-up. It was just one of those days filled with such an unbelievable accumulation of screw-ups and bad timings and inexplicable rudenesses from complete strangers that you progress from cranky and out of sorts, straight through to crying, gnashing of teeth and rending of garments.

I felt utterly incapable of controlling a single thing around me and so ended the day (9:00 PM/12 hour work day/at the end of a week of several 12 hour work days/because huge bad thing discovered at 4:30PM/re:final straw) with a treat of a cab ride home. And the moment I got into the cab, a van cut the cab off and I was stuck for four blocks in traffic swerving pursuit of that van and the cabbie barking the worst possible swear words at the van at every red light. And at the end of the ride, I couldn't even get him to drop me where I want to and had to walk 4 blocks back to meet Dan and little grey and LP. And Dan gave me a big hug and I just cried and cried and cried.

I think this is what newborns must feel like--as if the whole world is a giant rough insensitive place and they can't even get a word in edge wise. And they cry and cry and cry.

Meh.

So, today, a whole collection of my favorite graffiti artist's sticky-label drawings. Perfect for the day after what will heretofore be known as the "stupidest day of the year":

don't fret, indeed.