Today started like any other.

Open my Oura app (Ms. Oura as I refer to her) to see how I slept and what she determines my “Readiness” to be. Sun is already beaming in the window.

Turn on Bloomberg Surveillance at the lowest volume available, it’s still early and get a glimpse at the futures. Flat.

Ms. Oura says my readiness is “Off the charts” whatever that means and I slept like a champ. Everything is “Optimal”. OK Ms. Oura…if you say so…I will play along.

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The PCE will print shortly, that could move the needle today but data from the great state of Michigan will drive the bus. Inflation expectations and consumer sentiment due at 10am.

Just some random thoughts as I settle in. To be honest I am more interested in getting outside and enjoying the first 80 degree day of 2025.

PCE was in-line (yawn) and Sentiment was down (another yawn) and they are pricing future inflation at 5%. Say what?

Call me crazy but most (all?) of this data is starting to work against us. It started tilting the wrong way a while back, now we just seem to be leaning further into it. In a bad way.

One of my IRA’s has been parked in cash for most of this year, so I am eager to put it work. I have forced myself to sit on my hands, wait, watch, listen.

I don’t actually “hear” the tariff nonsense being spewed by every media outlet, they are all muted once I get in front of my screens. I let the dancing candles and moving averages tell the story.

At one point late this morning, not sure when, working on that all important pre-noon last cup of coffee I uttered the following:

Welcome to zero bid Friday. Nobody is buying it.

Reminds me of that great line from Die Hard, Sgt. Al Powell if my memory serves correctly:

I’m starting to feel the same way about all of this Liberation BS.

I know change is necessary, I know it’s overdue, I get it. I also know a good 10% haircut in this market is nothing close to Armageddon long-term but my nerves are fraying.

I’m growing tired of red.

My true fear is not the present either, my fear is it getting out of control and everyone trying to exit the crowded dancefloor through the same door at the first whiff of smoke.

Not that innocent little white wisp dancing upward when you blow out the Christmas candle, I’m talking real smoke. Thick smoke. Black.

That’s when 10% turns into 20% and chaos ensues. I can hack it, but very few are mentally or fiscally prepared to do the same.

Keep the faith I tell myself. Put some of that IRA to work. Start small and add more later if that’s in the cards.

Then relax and have a seat.

Pssst…just make sure it’s close to the door…