As God is my witness, Dearies, I have absolutely no idea what happened to me yesterday.
I was sitting in the good fountain chair and minding my business when a feeling of rage started to bubble up inside me. It's like everything was a complete bother all of a sudden and the noise and the pain and the discomfort and...everything...sent me over the proverbial edge.
Rather than look at the puffy clouds on the drive home I ranted at the traffic and punched the radio off.
I stopped for my cold brew treat and didn't engage in my usual pleasant banter with my barista friend. I just said thank you and drove on and then cursed myself for indulging on a Wednesday.
By the time I stomped up the steps I knew something was decidedly wrong and wondered if I was having a stroke. Five minutes of conversing with my beloved JB sent me into a full-on raging Incredible Hulk imitation, so I decided to take drastic action and put myself to bed.
That didn't really work either, because I couldn't get myself to sleep, so I threw off the magic nap blanket and stomped around the apartment while poor JB fled to the balcony for safety and a cigar.
Leftover bar-b-que ribs for dinner....some more stomping....and then I seemed to hit some kind of wall of exhaustion, so I went to bed at 9:00 and stayed there until moments ago.
I seriously have no earthly idea what the heck that was, but it has left me tired and completely fuzzy headed this morning/afternoon. It was a fritz-out of the first degree, I think, and not something I am keen to repeat any time soon. The thought that I could have that much "ick" buried inside my pitiful little soul when I have such a good life makes me very...ashamed.
But something needed to come out. That's for sure.
Today there is absolutely nothing on the agenda except stitching and quiet. JB has gone to play the golfing, and I am going to enjoy the peace and quiet of a happy Thursday.
I hope your day is exactly as wonderful as you want it to be! Come tell me all about it!