I should have had a fab day today. It was 70 and sunny. I allowed myself a “day off” from any kind of school work, which opened hours and hours to spring clean guilt-free. I hung laundry out to dry. Opened windows. Read a little (fiction).
But today sucked. I screamed and hollered at the kids all day, lamented the piles of laundry, cursed the ever-filling sink of dishes, hated toys that no one EVER plays with, wished I lived alone, yearned for sleep.
And then the *real* guilt: guilt for thinking and feeling all that. Which then results in a indescribable self-loathing, because, as you might infer, a horrible cycle ensues. I’m miserable, I feel bad for feeling miserable, which makes the misery (if it could be any more) worse.
Desperate Housewives didn’t even cheer me up, but it’s mostly because the series has gone downhill. I’m slowly beginning to dislike and becoming impatient with nearly all of them: Bree turned into an anti-gay Bible-thumper, Gabrielle has hit a new high in materialistic superficiality (though Carlos is a jerk, too), and Susan can’t grow some cojones and kick her nympho-mom out. Lynette is really the only one I respect anymore, but she really does need to whoop up on those boys some.
The only thing I can figure is that 1) I have been eating like crap lately [lots of candy, mostly] and 2) I haven’t run a step in over two weeks [my ITB was giving me hell, and the only surefire way to get it back to normal is to rest].
Here’s hoping the funk passes quickly.