It’s such a Monday.

You know you’re going to have a great day when you’re driving down the road thinking that those new contacts you just put in feel really dry — and one of them falls out of your eye into your hand. And you’re not legal to drive without them. And you’ve got no contact solution or drops. And you’re still 7 miles from work.

Somehow I managd to convince it to stick to my eyeball until I could get to the Wawa and pick up some generic contact solution. In addition, I managed to do so without hitting anything. Granted, I ended up late for work… ah, such a Monday this is.

The birth of new gods

Ursula Vernon recently mentioned that this article is a strong part of the basis for the myth of the Black Mother and the Good Man in Digger (which if you aren’t reading, you should. Pony up the $3 for the archive, you won’t regret it.) The fact that these children are developing their own religion on the fly is fascinating enough, but to see the darkness inherent in it really says a lot about where we’ve left our homeless families — and what we think of ourselves as a people. There’s still hope, but we have so much work to do.