"I'm thinking it's a sign…"-Postal Service

"Have you read the comics this morning Clarice?"

"No Dr. Lecter"

"You should. Pearls Before Swine exceptionally funny. You can hear the pig scream Clarice."

Ever notice that even your favorite comics have off days? I love Pearls Before Swine, but somedays I just go "huh…"

Today's going to be a "Huh..." day around here. Go ahead and skip to Marmaduke; it's probably funnier. Yes, it's a black day, a black day indeed…

I'm finding that’s one of the things in my divorce. Some days are chock full of revelations. Other days are chock full of clocking time between one sleep and the next. I used to be able to fill the time with gallons of blame and guilt, but now I just feel drained. I've filled containers with all the fault fluid, labeled them, and shelved them according to perspective and reality. My head is a library of sample jars. Don't open them; they stink.

It seems I'm a packrat in all aspects of my life. Do you know I still have the first story I ever wrote from second grade? I don't think I'm gonna peak an agents interest in "My Dog." It's one page, and not even a real page. It's that three lined alphabet paper we used up till third grade. You remember the stuff with the dotted line so you could differentiate between capital letters and lower case? Yeah, I won't spoil the "My Dog" ending, but let's just say the title tells the story. No plot, no conflict, no crisis fulfillment. Man, being a kid was great. Then I started collecting other things as I grew up. Report cards, love letters, both said the same thing: "Rob has such potential. If only he'd apply himself."

Well my head is the same way. I store every grievance, every wrong doing, and every crime. Oh, I don't just keep the things people do to me, I keep track of my own acts of atrocity. They hold a special circle in hell. They usually spill out when I think too highly of myself.

Today I made somebody feel good about themselves.

Oh yeah? What about that time in third grade when you broke Dawn Sullivan's glasses and called her fat?

Well she was kicking me with her new boots before I said anything at all.

And that made your actions excusable?

Yeah, I'm a prince among men.

But even those days are better than the "nothing" days. At least when I remember Dawn I can say, "I never did that again, " but nothing is nothing. It's a day that leaves you going "huh…"

It's the newly single person's curse. Before I was married, I filled my space with single stuff. I don't remember what that was, but I remember my space was full. My thoughts were either of being single, or wondering if I'd ever not be single.

When I married, I filed those thought jars and replaced them with the newly married stuff. The fluffy love thoughts. Those gave way to routine mason jars. When Myunwife left, she took a bat to my space, spilling jars, combining fluids that made sense into brothy chaos. Now I've filtered everything and replaced them into their original containers, I'm left with labels on jars that don't pertain to who I am now. I'm anxious, but there's nothing here. Each day I look for something new to fill the shelves, and some days are like today: Empty.

Some days I have to go to bed with only an empty jar labeled "huh…" The good news is that I look to each day like a box of Cracker Jacks: I can't wait to see what the prize is. So today was "huh?" Maybe tomorrow will be stick on tattoo cool. Each day is something fresh. Tomorrow I'll be Pearls Before Swine.