07.01.01 Whining on a Sunday It’s one of those days when beer lacks teeth and the mind spins hopelessly pining for the insulation of raw emotion wires. It’s one of those days when dogs pace uneasily under desks and the skies alternate doom with stepped rage flashings and then sheeting downpours. It’s one of those days when a welcome guest has left, you appreciate the return of quiet routine yet face again the nagging sting of loneliness. It’s one of those days when Death stops by for a lobster salad sandwich and denies your repeated pleas to tag along during today’s rounds. It’s one of those days where the reason for existence has been toed beneath the sofa with jingle bell cat toys and 47 soda caps. It’s one of those days which will beg a deathbed request for a “do-over.”