I’ve been up for four hours now, and I can’t shake it. This awful black mood I’m in. It doesn’t help that my internet service is funky or that Seesmic wasn’t working during one of the few times of the day I can play on Twitter. It doesn’t help that MSB chose to wake early and listen to Fox and CSpan all morning–trust me, that really doesn’t help. And it doesn’t help that he’s chatty when all I want is to be alone.
I remember some actress from back in the twenties who held a wilted hand to her tired, sad brow and begged, “Please, let me be. Leave me alone!” I can relate.
Most of this morning was spent trying to figure out what I was going to write for my Place today. I tried to come up with an animal story–by far my most popular posts, but that fell flat. Writing tips wouldn’t work primarily because I don’t plan to do tips here anymore. If words of wisdom pertaining to writing actually cross my mind again, I’ll save them for my other site, AuthorCulture. A devotional would’ve been good, but I doubt anyone would want to read about me crying toward the ceiling, “What is wrong with me?!”
So, I decided to just be honest. Today, I’m crabby. I’m in a mood. A big, black, ugly mood. And, before you ask, no. It’s not pms or menopause. I’m well over both. I’m just cranky.
And I think I’ve pinpointed why.
The kids went to Disneyland, and I’m stuck here.