My sweet Sven is chopping up kindling to start a fire in the wood stove.
The TV is tuned into old golfers rattling on about old golf tournaments.
It must be a Nunday.
Why else would he be making a fire this early?
Why else would I be roaming from room to room?
And why is my cat sitting in the sink?
Grainy days and Nundays always get me down.
I have lived a fairly long time now.
I understand a little bit about grainy days and Nundays.
They can pop up out of nowhere.
However, immediately following Christmas they are a guaranteed visitor.
But, I forget this most years.
Forgetfulness is achieved through the passage of time.
But perhaps when it comes to grainy days and Nundays, it is not forgetfulness.
Maybe we choose to refuse to acknowledge that they are on their way.
There really isn't a good reason that one should want to know that tomorrow is going to be a grainy Nunday.
Because that would not change anything.
And if you knew that tomorrow was going to be a Nunday, that grainy feeling could start creeping in on a non-Nunday.
Which is just stupid.
You are much better off to keep your blinders on.
And here is the good news.
Grainy Nundays are only temporary.
They show up when your Christmas celebration is behind you, yet your tree is still standing.
And they will hang around as long as that tree is in that stand.
But, do not take it down the day after Christmas.
That only makes it worse.
Because grainy Nundays are here for a reason.
They are here to mess with your head.
And you just have to let them get it out of their system.
The best way to get through these grainy days, is to walk around your house in circles.
Not everyone has the pleasure of living with, Hunter, the dog who would steal Christmas if he could, Tuna, the teenage punk cat, and Grandma Meow Meow, the fuzzy lady who lives in her basement apartment.
I wouldn't know for sure, but I am guessing that some of you folks could probably coast through these doldrums by sitting on your couch and staring.
I have to keep moving.
I am not allowed to plant my ass until the evening according to my three stooges, unless I am here at my desk clicking away on these here keys.
Thus a story about grainy Nundays.