Oh, my goodness, Dearies! If I don't snap out of this...whatever...I'm in, we're going to have to put me in permanent time out.
I'm miserable. And sad. And tired. And irrationally angry.
In other words...completely not myself at all. Even Rich has commented that I seem to have been replaced with a version of myself that seems contrary to my nature...very "off" somehow and not at all interested in catering to his every whim or making the world a big fat happy chalk painting jolly holiday adventure with Bert, and the kids.
I'm blaming it on pain and anesthesia and the grinding horror of dialysis, as well as the Super Blood Moon Lunar Eclipse thingie that I completely missed because I had the covers pulled over my head for the better part of an entire weekend.
I haven't stitched, read, blogged, cooked, or slept well...a real recipe for spinster disaster if there ever was one. The Christmas decorations are still up, my apartment is a filthy mess, and my laundry is in shambles.
About the only thing I have going for me is that I'm clean and well-showered, which my techs do truly appreciate. My legs might be a bit stubbly, but at least I smell Irish Spring freash.
Now after all of that, you know that I will snap out of it and return to normal soon, but methinks I am going to enjoy a bit more of a wallow before I kick myself in the heiney. A little guilt-free pity party is not going to kill me, so give me a minute to strap on my paper hat and we'll get on with it.
Somebody pass me the cake and a really big fork.