Poor, tortured Alexander. Several generations of kids have found solace in his suffering.
Today, I am Alexander. The dogs ate my couch, I got a bad haircut, my neighbor is an asshole, and there were lima beans for breakfast. And I hate lima beans.
My lunchtime run, usually a nice mid-day endorphine cocktail, only deepened the mire of this interminable Thursday. My shoes are pinching, my headphones stopped working, and I'll be damned if I wasn't running into a headwind both directions. How does that even happen? My feet felt heavy, I got a rock in my shoe, and somebody dumped a bunch of garbage on the trail. And I hate garbage on the trail.
Tomorrow, I'll lace-up again and give it another try. For now... I'd like a beer and my railroad train pajamas, please.