Sometimes you come into a day with only one way to chop it: shotty (a lady never curses *publicly*). You come into work and it's Monday, which is reason enough to walk out the door. The air is muggy, and your email inbox is even more stifling. You can't even get through Day Two of your big Ode to Summer Swimsuit Season Juice Cleanse.
Then out of nowhere-well not nowhere, but the land of instant chat-two puzzle pieces fit. It's discovered that you and your near-and-dear friend both have a Phil Collins Pandora station. Just like that old black magic the world feels bearable again.
This post dedicated to the volcano to my tornado, Caroline Gallay. Whose Twitter feed is the only one worth reading.