Today was just one of those days where everything seemed like such a freakin’ hassle. For one thing, it was mercilessly hot (110), and, still getting over this damned head cold and feeling a little shaky, I felt like I was functioning at 33 1/3 RPM in a 45 RPM world. In addition, my heart is heavy after an e-mail from our friend (and former neighbor) Jana from Louisville telling us that she is going to have to have her 19-year old cat Elizabeth put down in the next day or two. I know how she feels – I had to do the same thing to our 16-year old cat Sparkle on New Year’s Day. When you have certain pets around for so long, they become a part of the fabric of your life, and it’s so hard to say goodbye when the time comes, even when you know it’s the best and most humane thing to do.

But that’s not all. We also had our (seemingly) regular monthly visit from the Hawkeye Landscaping folks to fix a broken sprinkler valve in our backyard. Sayonara, $121.50.

And, we’re getting complaints (again) from our back neighbors because our mesquite tree is dropping leaves into their pool, but our landscaper Carmelo says the branches have gotten too high (the tree’s obvious response to the same neighbor’s insistence that we width-prune) for him to do it.

And, our next-door neighbor stopped by to ask us to ask Carmelo to trim the orange Lantana bush encroaching his driveway. He’s afraid to ask Carmelo himself, because the closest Mr. White Bread comes to anything remotely multicultural is when he orders tacos at the local Jack In The Box. Dude says the bush is dangerous ’cause he can’t see over it when he’s pulling out of the driveway – never mind the fact he owns a monster King Cab truck and that we both live on the tail-end of a cul-de-sac. Whatever.

So, it’s one of those days where the John Lennon song “It’s So Hard” from his Imagine album seems to fit the mood so well. It’s a good thunking blues rocker almost spoiled by Phil Spector’s production – the lilting, menacing strings over the instrumental and last verse seem a bit much when guitar, bass, drums, piano, and King Curtis’ grinding sax should have been enough throughout. Here are the words, and you’ll see what I mean:

You gotta live
You gotta love
You gotta be somebody
You gotta shove
But it’s so hard, it’s really hard
Sometimes I feel like going down

You gotta eat
You gotta drink
You gotta feel something
You gotta worry
But it’s so hard, it’s really hard
Sometimes I feel like going down

But when it’s good
It’s really good
And when I hold you in my arms baby
Sometimes I feel like going down

You gotta run
You gotta hide
You gotta keep your woman satisfied
But it’s so hard, it’s really hard
Sometimes I feel like going down

On nights like this it’s easy to forget these are minor annoyances in the grand scheme of life. So, you just accept it for what it is, remember that there will always be days when the wind is not filling your sails, and hope the next day will be better. I thank God for the ability to recognize that and to keep these kinds of things in perspective.

BTW, the U.S. Open starts today at Winged Foot in Mamaroneck, NY. Tiger‘s first tournament since his father passed away two months ago, Phil‘s attempt to win three golf majors in a row. Unfortunately, The Great White Shank’s crystal ball portends ill for both of them, as my prediction is that Tim Clark will win. And that classic under-performer Sergio Garcia will not make the cut. Place your bets now, ’cause you can take these picks to the bank.