Rain, rain, go away...

I'm beginning to think that God's divine plan is to make it rain this particular week every year in order to depress the shit out of me.

Last year April was perfectly sunny until the 26th, the morning after Roach died, when it was all overcast and gross. And then it poured on the day of the funeral, so on top of feeling miserable and sad, we were wet and cold and miserable and sad. Oh, for a week of sunshine. I honestly think I'd perk up.

Moreover, it's almost May, damnit. Where's my springtime weather?

Tonight is the NCCM dance, and I really don't feel like going (I've got the bluesies), which means I really should go. I'm sure I'll have fun once I get there.

This weekend I must: fill out my PM app, do my lit theory reading, write a paper for that class, and write a short story (the promt was someone's worst fear- I got one about being strangled to death in the dark). I think it's going to be about the strangled dude's fiance. He will have been murdered by the Russian mob for having witnessed a crime, and she shall be alone and depressed. I'm thinking a violin teacher who lives in St. Petersburg, has to whore herself to the guy that ordered her fiance's murder (but she doesn't know it) so that he won't kill her, and then goes to church every morning for forgiveness for it. She does all of the above just to get by.

Where do I come up with this stuff?