I don't do well with mornings, well, weekday mornings anyway. While Staz is more than happy to complain about my chipper, bubbly, weekend morning self, I find workday mornings somewhat difficult. They're much better than they used to be. With a job you enjoy at a pay that seems fair, with a laid-back boss that I actually like, it's hard to complain. But there is still a certain melancholy that affects me every time I leave the comforts of my warm bed and my lovely snoozing bride. Maybe I just think about everything that's waiting for me besides work; Feeding animals, walking animals, showering, changing, brushing, then the long tedious drive. Maybe it's the idea of doing this every day for the forseeable future, and hoping there is still some adventure left in what remains of my life. I don't really know. All I know is I really have no right to this mood. Honesty, I don't think I could possibly have it any better. New house, new wife, Great job with great money and a chance for actual career advancement. I guess if you take away all things to complain about, I'll just have to make something up.