I want my mommy. Or a nice decongestant.

Is it still Monday?

Dang.

You would think that what with the day being so long, I would have gotten a lot done. You would be wrong.

I near death from the common cold, and so the simplest tasks seem unworthy of my time. I may not survive the day, so who cares if the laundry is done? Instead of breathing through my nose, I have moved from room to room trying to attain some elusive comfort. The kind of comfort that comes from Mother's fried chicken and mashed potatoes. The kind of comfort I couldn't taste on account of I can't breathe.

So, here I am, comfortless, and near the end of Monday.

And dying.

Sometimes, when my life gets particularly trying, I look to see if there is some recognizable pattern; some clue to a theme.

There is.

Mostly it's that I want everything to be excruciatingly fair, from my perspective.

And I want to be Empress for Life.

And this causes me trouble.

You see, for some inexplicable reason, God does not want me to be Ruler of Everything. It's very inconvenient.

Not only am I not Totally in Charge, but I rarely have the roadmap for days ahead. So here I fumble along, completely unaware of what will happen next.

I hate that.

Do you suppose God is trying to teach me something?