The black dog

I've been having some very down days lately, no real reason, but my tendency to moroseness. I was nearly tearful over not getting a seat on the Northern Line on the way home today. I have coping strategies though. I channelled my depressive sadness into a plot to do violence to the person whose Ipod was leaking crap music all the way down to me - some six crammed-in people away. I might have done it, too, ripped those earphones right out of her player (as she sat healthy and spritely in the seat for the disabled and infirm) and delivered a stern lecture on respect for others if it weren't for those six people, nose to armpit, standing between me and her. Plus the fact that I really couldn't be bothered.

Despite my downness, it does me no good to compare myself to others who are worse off than me. But here's somebody who is, in her late 20s diagnosed with thyroid cancer, she's in surgery today. And she didn't even win the lottery this weekend, having bought a ticket on the assumption that her luck couldn't get any worse.

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I swore when I started this blog I wouldn't get all morose, but there you go... I'm not even cheered by Tom DeLay's resignation. Well, maybe a little bit. Still, I'm tending to look at the cloud rather than the silver lining - his resignation will make it a little more difficult for Dems to win his particular seat.