Monday, February 23, 2015

In a Mood. Not in THE Mood. That Would Be a Good Thing.

I'm in a mood today.

Today was a snow day here in North Texas. Actually, it was a "millions of tiny pellets of ice descending from the sky to bond with the concrete" day, which is what typically happens during a Texas winter.

Winter in Texas is a real dick.
Anyway, the schools were closed, and I wasn't about to get on the freeway with a bunch of clueless drivers. Since we had advance notice of the bad weather, I had my work computer at home so I could remotely connect to my company network and pretty much work normally.

That's the theory, anyway. In reality, connecting remotely is a painful, frustrating, inefficient process hamstrung by a network infrastructure that has remained static while demand for connectivity has grown threefold.

In layman's terms, this.
So I made a game effort to get some work done, but there were lots of things I simply couldn't accomplish, and the things I absolutely had to do left me feeling tired and drained.

Which brings me to the fact that I spent today feeling tired and drained, and I don't think it's entirely because of the limitations of my computin' machine. I didn't feel particularly well today - it's possible that if today hadn't been a snow day, I might have called in sick anyway.

Sick-sick, not Ferris-sick.
I feel run down and lethargic. I took two naps today, and not the awww-yeah-lazy-time kind of naps - the I-think-I'm-gonna-need-to-be-unconscious-for-a-while kind. The not so fun kind.

I'm pretty sure I'm not sick, but I did get my period this morning. And by "this morning," I mean I've been having raging PMS for at least two weeks now - including anxiety, irritability, sleeping problems, and boobs that feel as if they've been replaced by twin water balloons full of pain - and the actual menses finally decided to make an appearance today.

This is my cycle now. I hardly ever get a period any more, but when I do, it's a complete fucking diva. It's like the worst houseguest ever, disrupting my schedule, getting on my nerves, and expecting me to be at its beck and call, all so that it can make its grand entrance when it decides the time is right.

It's like "Real Housewives of Perimenopause"
in my ovaries.
So I don't feel great, and I'm not in a great mood. And last night's Oscar telecast didn't help.

I'm supposed to be writing a recap of the show, because I said I would. But the fact is, it was boring. It bored me.

It had its moments.

This. It had this.
But everybody on the internetz has already weighed in on Gorm Gizonga and Neil Patrick Harris in his underwear and the stupid, stupid bit with the predictions in the briefcase. I have nothing to add.

I'm just so grumpy about the whole thing.

How I felt by the end of the night.
So that's left me feeling bitchy, because I wanted to post a fun, witty wrap-up of the Oscars, but I can't. Maybe it's because the show itself was neither funny nor witty, or maybe because I'm not. Either way, I'm irritated.

Sensing a theme here?

With my go-to topic taken from me, I needed something else to write about. My friend Bill the Butcher recently sent me a new guest post, which tickles me to death, but I simply lack the energy to edit it for publication (not that it will need much editing, but I want to format and illustrate Bill's wonderful writing to do it justice, and I can't do that right now). That's also irritating.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, other than the laundry list of things I've just written about. Maybe that's enough.

Oh, and they've already canceled school for tomorrow because more bad weather is coming. Joy.

I'm thinking this would be a very bad time to watch The Shining.

Tomorrow there will be an amazing post in this space.

Most likely it will be Bill the Butcher's and not mine, but I'll take it.

All of you...get off my lawn.


  1. Midol double dutch chocolate cupcakes would hit the spot. These need to be a thing, like right away.

  2. This was much better than a witty Oscars wrap-up. I'm just sorry you had to go through all that crap to write it. There's a theory that Sylvia Plath had awful periods as well. Considering how things turned out for her I don't think of that as a good thing. Here's something to cheer you up: watch John Carpenter's The Thing. That's the perfect film for a snow day.


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