My office is in the depths of our dealership. And by depths I mean, I cannot see outside. Well, I take that back. If I carefully cram myself into the corner of my desk, throw myself across said desk and stretch my neck, I can see a scrap of outside through the showroom windows.

Even with all the sky-line gloriousness I am completely unaffected by the weather. Of course, walking to and from my car is the obvious exception. But within my office, it doesn't matter how dismal or bright it is outside, my office remains the same. A little climate controlled grey prison.

Today it is paticularly binding and wretched because it is so GLORIOUS outside. I want to be out there! Dancing among the rainbows! Skipping with the unicorns! Feeding lollipops to the Care Bears!

But I am not. I am here. Longing. Unfulfilled. Trapped. (cue corny Creed music about prisons)

See? That's what being optomistic does for you. DASHES YOUR HAPPY LITTLE DREAMS TO THE ROCKS.