I am out in the sticks writing & writing & writing, and I can't figure out why there are no fireflies here. Last winter and early spring I got freaked out because everything seemed so quiet--not in NYC, out in the country--like all the birds that should have been around to some degree at least were totally gone. In fact, the weird dry quiet of it led to me feeling deeply apocalyptic and freaked out, but then I figured out the potion to rid myself of that particular problem, Cheney or no Cheney. (The potion includes this ingredient: the Cheneys of the world always do lose in the end. It just doesn't seem like that in the middle.)
Now, I have noticed that I have a whole new set of problems. (The old ones were around for years and the solution to them was not being really well-behaved, but a few miraculous magic bullets--nobody ever really tells you that). That is pretty much cause for celebration. Bourbon, cigarettes, confetti, ice cream, overspending, underearning, making out in cars with boys, whatever you want to do. Celebrate good times. Let me be your excuse, honey.
Maybe it is just this full moon in Capricorn. It's supposed to mean some kind of work culmination or something, I knew for about 5 minutes then forgot.
I can't wait for the third miracle cure of 2007, and the fourth. I'm just going to keep my eye open for them, which seems to be the best potion of them all.