Time for breakfast.

Whoa: last night, after coming home from dinner (enchiladas) and a movie (The Artist--good), I fell upon my pillow and fell asleep around 10:30 and woke up in my clothes at 1 a.m., got up, brushed my teeth, washed my face, undressed, and fell back asleep again until 8.

I did not, as you see, collect my thoughts and write a blog post. Alas. I am acknowledging this.

If we're keeping score--are we?--that means I now have a small slip on my record regarding my "blogging every day in 2012" initiative. But as I was opining on some other topic yesterday when I said "God is not a lawyer," well, neither am I and frankly neither are any of you, I don't think--if you're reading this and you're a lawyer, welcome! I have nothing against lawyers and, in fact,  kind of wish I were one--so I shall negotiate this small issue with myself and atone for it the only way I know how, which is: one post now, backdated for yesterday, and one post later today, for, you know, today.

And now I am going to make pancakes.

Bad day.

You wake up to a gray window, know in the muscles that hoist open your eyes that the day's not going to start well, and furthermore, you're not sure you have the inner resources to salvage it, starting with the failure to sleep and continuing with not enough hot water for a shower worth taking. Late to work, having pitched a fit that needs a bouquet of apologies. Anxious, anxious. Texting sorries to all and sundry.

Text! What you really need is to push "reset" starting at ten the night before. Make yourself go to bed instead engaging in your usual jangled assortment of keyboard-and-screen activity. Sleep. Wake up to a gray window, and know with the very least flutter of your eyelids that it's Friday, a good day, and you certainly know how to go with that.