Tuesday.

This morning I opened my eyes, and my first emotion was dread. I shut them and returned to the dream where I was commander of six million nanobot warriors. Our latest mission of entering my home's structure and defeating the termite intruders was going well, I relished in the sweet taste of the oncoming victory.
"Sir, the bugs are no more."
"Gather the bodies, we don't want the stench attracting reinforcements."
BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! Security breach! Alpha Unit, cover the entrances! Will someone turn off that infernal alarm!
I was awake again. My army was gone. The dread had returned. For those times you think twice, or twenty times, about clocking in, some days you feel sluggish, others you are unmotivated. But today was more than that. I had no trouble with starting the day in general, I had trouble with starting a day that would lead me to work. It has been a while since I last felt completely turned off about going to the office from my first lucid thought. Nothing to do with the creative challenge, or any other that may arise, but a simple yet utter dislike for the space it seemed to come to represent. You get to the point of willing events of mass destruction and natural disasters, just so you can go anywhere but 'there'.
Then Buddha licks my face and makes the motions that he really needs to go outside. I think of worse places I could have to approach than work. It gets me out of bed, but I think I'll carry the attitude. It'll give me the safe quiet little world I need so as not to hurt anyone ('s feelings, at least). Buddha, Dhara: go pee you hyper bastards. And run. A lot.
Go chase a butterfly you stupid mindless anorexic kitten!!!