Keeping in step with tradition, it is Sunday night and I am blue.

Bought deep purple gladiolas to color my Sunday with the essence of Queen E.

The day started promising with a visit to the Palisades Farmers Market and a relaxing day at the beach except for the insane guy in long john’s worn under his seriously ripped jeans that had no tangible denim on the butt and let us not forget the black socks and rubber water shoes.

After disrobing, he kept pacing around in his underwear rubbing exposed body parts, staring at the beachgoers.

I kept eyeing his backpack waiting for him to pull out a weapon.

Thankfully, he lfled the beach without causing bodily harm to anyone.

Then the call came that our wonderful doggie Madison was bleeding from the nose.

Courtny spent hours at the NYC Animal Medical Center so the concern and guilt were running rampant.

And the final heartbreak…the Yankees were swept by the Boston Red Sox.

The pitching staff has imploded, the boys are swinging axes instead of bats, hacking away at the ball and now they sit looking at first place in the American League East from 91/2 miles back…only binoculars would make it appear to be a  close race.

To deal with the blueness, I binge watched HBO’s, Succession, well into the wee hours of the morning.

Bad choice…compelling series, but fraught with  fear, hatred and family angst and not a redeeming character amongst the family.

The series follows the Roy family, led by Logan Roy (a Rupert Murdoch clone) who control one of the biggest media and entertainment conglomerates in the world.

The family makes the word dysfunctional appear sanguine.

I dreaded Sunday nights when I was school age.

Now I wish I was back there…life was a lot less stressful and my days were glossed in hazy optimism…not the case as a grown up.

Yet again, my big girl panties are binding my ass.

There’s always tomorrow????????????????????