For an overly warm, excruciatingly sunny (hello just about every other day in May) Monday morning preceding a week jam-packed with mind-dulling routine, the already dismal atmosphere complemented by the lovely sounds of a rider mower and the usual furious pounding of nails and whirring of power saws next door, I seem to be handling myself incredibly well. I wonder how I do it, sometimes. Maybe I am quietly forcing myself deep down inside not to go Talbain on someone's ass.