Anchored

Went in early to work to check on things after a holiday weekend, to attend a much-too-early meeting and to catch up on a few outstanding to-dos. The reality of things didn't take long to depress me and, by noon,  I was yawning frequently and ready for bed. There were still things to tend to though and another long meeting to attend. I somehow managed to neglect most of the things I'd come in to confront today. 

Stopped at a laundromat on the way home that featured a restaurant and bar across the street. I stuffed a weeks worth of clothes into a single washer, dropped the quarters into the slot and set the controls. I crossed the street, not without peril, and ordered myself a michelada. This made me feel a little better but not half as good as the Latino family I saw on television in eyes-rolled-back euphoria after biting into Pop Tarts. They were levitating in a state of total delight. Unrealistic expectations, yo. 

I can't get there from here.