'Oh, I would not feel so all alone, everybody must get...'

Rainy day woman, this is not. I woke up this morning and padded out to my flat screen, flipped on the news, put water in the kettle for tea, tossed in the Irish Breakfast (the best blend ever, god bless the Irish) and watched as the telly screen faded to black. Arrgh! Thunder and lightening lit up the sky. I took it as a sign and went back to bed. My friends were all on their way to work for another hostile make over of their minds, and I, lucky degenerate, listened to the rain pelting the windows. An evil smile flickered over my face. Maybe if I woke up in time there'd be a warm donut or 2 left on the counter of my secret carbo supplier. What could I blame the storms on? Ok, we're not in the East buried under a pile of snow, or sliding along on an interstate playing bumper cars. Still, back to back to back rain storms. By the third, it starts fraying. This is Cali. Land of sun-kissed oranges and almonds. When I awoke from the slumber, the Cowboys had lost; 24 had already jumped the shark (who cares, we love it); and Scott Brown had won the Mass Senate seat. Scott Brown. WTF. Somewhere, Teddy's trying to pull a Carrie from the grave. The Demo's blinked first. And a pick-up truck driving, anti global warming, conservative repub donkey konged the donkey. You snooze, you lose. Time for some oatmeal and toast and contemplation of el presidente's health reform measure, and what this really means for Washington. But do I care? Uh, yeah. In the old days, pilgrimages were made to old crones and oracles for answers. A live shot of Pelosi flashed across the news screen. A bead of sweat glistened on her brow. Or was it? Maybe, just maybe it was a tiny reflection of all this Cali rain...