a case of the mondays

I'm super mopey this morning like the sky with the clouds that want to snow but can't quite yet because other weather conditions are not right and I want to say I reject this morning with all its attendant muted light I spit upon it I will not bake it cookies not even bad ones I tell it it should have stayed in the womb of midnight and not met me suddenly with the material remembrances of yesterpast that unfortunately were utterly and deliriously happy and now all the morning just says my god how I miss that and us like that and I'm just waxing nostalgic and I should stop and return to work because that's what I've got now and it's good but still how many hours until the sky will snow down on us.