Angry.

I'd really hoped to finish up a review of Picus the Thief by Robin Bennett to post this evening.


Instead, this evening, I learned of a death in the family. I wish I could cry and grieve and move on through the so-called five stages of grief. But instead I'm so fucking furious I can barely see straight. So rather than post something that I'll regret tomorrow, I'll just say this:

If you ever find yourself in the unfortunate position of notifying someone of a death, don't wait two fucking weeks to tell them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to start calling the rest of my family.