Never a good sign.

Monday begins like this: a minivan and a disproportionate number of cops off on the side of the highway. triadruid observes this tableau. "Gotta watch those criminal minivans," he says.

"Could be full of ninjas. You can fit a lot more ninjas in a minivan than a Civic," I say. At this point, I feel the rising waters of the absurd, and make a grab for something anchoring. "Or dope. You could fit a lot of dope in a minivan." But it's too late. I start to giggle madly. "Or, you know, doped-up ninjas."

He gives me that even, solid, grounding look. It is to no avail. "Cops hate stoned ninjas," he says, "It's a lot of paperwork, and they giggle."

This is how Monday begins. And it's not gotten much more rational since.

Never a good sign.

Monday begins like this: a minivan and a disproportionate number of cops off on the side of the highway. triadruid observes this tableau. "Gotta watch those criminal minivans," he says.

"Could be full of ninjas. You can fit a lot more ninjas in a minivan than a Civic," I say. At this point, I feel the rising waters of the absurd, and make a grab for something anchoring. "Or dope. You could fit a lot of dope in a minivan." But it's too late. I start to giggle madly. "Or, you know, doped-up ninjas."

He gives me that even, solid, grounding look. It is to no avail. "Cops hate stoned ninjas," he says, "It's a lot of paperwork, and they giggle."

This is how Monday begins. And it's not gotten much more rational since.