Uh....

I hate Mondays in general, but today I learned my agent quit (or whatever exactly happened, no one has said except by form letter) my literary firm.

You'd think maybe someone at the agency would be in touch to say, "Don't worry" or "We'll line you up with someone else." But no.

I've got five books in process (three in production) and we were just starting to look for more work. But.. uh... I don't want a new agent. I liked my last one. And I don't like that my agency hasn't called or written.

It's the first situation in a long while that made me tempted to smoke away my anxiety. I don't like alcohol and I'm probably a little old to take up heroin, crystal meth, or even Vicodin. (I need the opposite of dope: I need smart.)