The Bad Mood

How bad does a mood have to get to be a clinical issue? If the owner of the mood has dreams of a nice long rest alone on a lovely psych unit somewhere, is that bad? We need to work on that stigma in this society.



I started today with a shower and when I opened the shower I found all the remnants of Teena's bath last night. Finally got that cleaned up and started my shower and picked up the shampoo bottle and there was a soggy earwig under it. It looked already dead but I chased it down and smashed it just in case. I shoved it to the side where there is not any water, but really, can a person be expected to enjoy their shower with a wet dead earwig staring at them from the edge? Really? But ya know, I was ok. I managed to get through it and move on.



Teena had a doctors appointment and she still has a slight urinary tract infection. And even though The Husband and I, yes and I, have dissected every turd to leave our child's body, we still do not know what she could have swallowed that could have caused the blip on her x-rays. I just know one thing for sure, whatever IT is has not vacated the premises. Ugh. As nasty and gross as I thought that glamorous task would be, it was 10 times worse. Anyway, off to My Beloved Target for another round of antibiotics for Teena.



I have a thing about parking lots. I need to have the best space. Not just a good one, the BEST one. If it is a little small, or cockeyed, well that is ok I am not driving a Cadillac. I take into account all entrances, sides of the rows, side of the car to get out on, etc. Like I said, a thing. I was jacked today, out of 3 spots, the last 2 because some 2 jerks in a row decided to use the spot I wanted to turn their stupid asses around instead of going to the end like people in normal society. The second time the dumbass behind the wheel started to wave me in and back up, like I am now going to back up down the row to go in. I suspect he was able to read lips based on the expression on his face. However I moved on.

When it is time to get Genea from the bus, I wait at the door and when the bus turns the corner I scurry out the door to the stop as fast as I can. The stop is a few doors down, which is a huge improvement over it being a block away in this weather. Weather which has clearly conspired against me and has turned everything to ice. Sooooo, in trying to haul ass, I landed on mine. What was my first thought? Not ow! OMG Did anyone see? Then ow, then aw hell, my hand is bleeding. The other fun effect of this weather conspiracy has been cuticles so dry they are pulling away from the rest of my skin and actually get caught on clothes. eewwwww. I put stuff like lotion and burts bees on them but for crying out loud, is it supposed to be a part time job? Anyway, the result has been I look like Michael Jackson with my fingers covered in band aids only my band aids have Barbie on them (his might too, I am just taking the position that I do not know).

Tonite I start a yoga class. I did video yoga (alone) when I was pregnant and it was great. I hear it is also relaxing. Plus I need to get out of the house. Plus I am tired of only talking to short people. I need to meet other people, but who is going to want to talk to the chick with the Michael Jackson fingers? Now I do not want to go. When I have a lot of stress I have some odd physical symptoms. I get a gross rash in my hairline. Acne in places you would expect, others not. Can't sleep. And the thrill of getting a monthly visitor perks up and appears early by up to 2 weeks. Great. This yoga business has no idea what it is up against. We'll see.