For whatever reason, Wednesday was a really bad day. Not because it was tax day — I filed and got my refund months ago — or because of the daily sh*t storm of world news. I didn’t receive word of a death or disaster among my circle of friends and acquaintances, the weather outside was lovely, and I managed to avoid any accidents by not doing much of anything.

But I felt lousy, like you do just before you get really, really sick. And everything hurt — literally everything, from my scalp, down past my left side where I think my pancreas resides but it felt more like just gas, all the way to the pinky toe on my right foot (probably not gas).

So I spent the day sitting. Well, most of it anyway; I did manage to do one load of laundry before curling up in my easy chair with a heating pad and taking a three-hour nap, thus practically guaranteeing that I won’t be able to fall asleep at a reasonable hour tonight. Not that I do anyway, most nights.

Luckily, the day’s news was more of the “Same-Sh*t-Different-Day” variety, so I was able to avoid getting wrapped up in that horror show for once. Instead, I went in search of a quotation that would sum up my day, and this is what I found:

“You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help.”

– Bill Watterson, “Calvin and Hobbes”

I know how you feel, Calvin. But hang in there, kid; this too shall pass . . . along with that gas.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
4/16/26