Sometimes you just have a day or a week or a month (or more, but I try not to think about that much) where you feel like you would have been better off crawling back under the covers and saying goodbye to the sky and sleeping. Not because you are tired, but because your day is likely to be full of strife or stupidity or mistakes real or imagined. I think this week has been my week.
I feel like I've been strung out between coming home from work, walking Victor, making him his chicken and rice dinner (as suggested by our vet), and then making our own dinner. I feel like I'm not knitting much, but I also feel like I'm not getting anything else done either. The days are filled with this strange sensation of minutiae taking over my life. It's not necessarily bad, but it does mean I feel like occasionally strung out.
When I get like this (and it is certainly an internal problem, because life really hasn't been any different from normal lately), all I can do is hope and look for the bits of joy in life. Today was minestrone soup from the crockpot with little pasta stars. Simple and tasty, though admittedly a bit bland for my taste. Tomorrow will be a three-mile run and getting together with friends. Saturday will be the deliciousness that is my once a week lemon stick (Donut King has my number I'm sure). These are little bits of joy, and behind that the constant hope that tomorrow will be better. That I will wake up with a better outlook and not be so frazzled or grumpy or, well, in some ways not so me.
