Just for today

Dear today,

You started with an alarm I slept through, making me late for work. Then you swamped me with one annoyance after the next: silly meetings, unreasonable boss, petty things that went wrong, a pile of chores that'll take hours but can't wait another day.

As if that weren't enough, you sent me a slew of reminders of how great everyone else's life is. Great stories, pitches accepted at magazines that turned mine down, another assignment to a friend that made me wonder if I'll have my space when I return to one of my favorite editors. A reminder that an old prof likes a classmate more than he does me.

Here's the thing I'm telling myself: You have five more hours to flood with annoyance and envy. At the end of it, I'll still be here, but you'll be gone forever. Petty consolation, but on a day like you, I'll take it.

Until tomorrow,
Yours.