Crabby crabby crabby

I've (finally) come home, and I just can't seem to shake this crabby feeling. I don't know if its work, or the fact that Katie Couric is no longer going to wake me up every morning (you laugh, but I've been watching her faithfully since I was 16, and I am devastated), or if its the irritation of having my TIVO suddenly develop a dire, urgent, social consciousness. (Tonight it greeted me with the "BirdFlu epidemic" Oprah Show and a special National Geographic on terrorism and chemical weapons. Good lord!)

Booooo

Mr. Anderson is wisely holed up in his office, working on things that require "total focus".

Mediation, breathing exercises, or yoga might be an option.

Or wine.