You know what I don’t care for? Feeling like this.
I put more salt than usual on my eggs. And then sprinkled sugar on my peaches and cream. Haven’t done in over a year.
A slightly (and I mean barely) confrontational email this morning raised my hackles more than it ought though it was quickly and happily resolved, despite my mental thunderclouds.
A lump in my chest over the not-even-real feather-ruffling and I feel like crying. Just a bit. Just while no one can see. I know I’ve no excuse for this and so I won’t, even though everything seems depressingly dingy at the edges.
Chocolate, even though I didn’t really want it, I did. And so I ate it. And it didn’t make me feel better.
Yesterday I wanted to write something about feeling pregnant or not. Until I realized I felt nothing at all and so I gave up and decided to wait until I had something to say. I had hoped it wouldn’t be something like this. I’m not a classic PMS symptom-haver but if that’s not what this is, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.
This is the first image the appears when you search “monkey’s uncle”: