Sleepy Sunday

The household drowsed late this morning. A nice stiff cappucino, toast and a brownie jerked me awake. The day drifted away in chores and reading Tony Judt's piece in the New York Review of Books entitled,"What's Wrong with Liberals?" Easy for him to go on about. I am so very angry, and nothing seems to be addressing the need for my anger to be expressed and relieved. The time for "nuance" and politeness is long past, as far as I'm concerned.
After running and working out, puttering around, we walked up to a Goth/Mex restaurant called Cupachabra. Nice little spicy dishes, and swell margaritas. All tables full of happy loud people, and a little clutch of tattooed black-clothed fellows playing pool; music in background, kind of retro odd. Pleasant walk home through a spritzy overcast evening.