Tired

Oh hey, guess who totally lost it today and couldn’t find it long enough to post?

This kid.

I would like my reasons to be glamorous and exciting, but they’re not. They’re all “cold medicine, busy getting reamed out at work, trying to do fourteen things at once” reasons. I feel like today – the last week, the last month – has been like the worst snow cone you ever had in your life: all snow, no flavor. Just a cone full of cold that is melting and dripping onto your hand, giving you a small patch of hypothermia, except of course that it’s a metaphorical cone and it’s dripping into my sad little excuse for a heart.

Ah, imagery.

You don’t really want to hear about it and I don’t really want to talk about it and also? I just sneezed fourteen times in a row, which is worth noting in the “I feel YUCKY, where’s my blankey” column of stuff that’s making me feel cranky.

“I’ve been in a weird headspace,” I said recently to a friend. “I know,” she said. “You’ve been… quiet.”

Now that headspace is wrapped in headcold. Which isn’t the worst thing in the world, but doesn’t make one dance about the room in a chipper fashion.

And dancing is usually one of my favourite things.

Perhaps tomorrow will allow for some dancing. Or, you know, perhaps not. I’ll have to let you know.