I'm pretty sure my problems are at least PMS crankiness, but I'll be damned if I'm going to apologize for yesterday's phone call. Only if I get an apology for suffering through constant telephone conversations with a partner who suddenly only has a five-word vocabulary. ("Yes", "no", "stop", "ditto", and "what")
Yesterday was just bad. So in retrospect, I'm glad I didn't try to do anything beyond reading, even though I had a list. The bank upset me--and now my refund should be there on Thursday so I can get the cash in my grubby paw and move it to my credit union (that has issues but at least communicates with me). I didn't eat right all day. Chad been logical and obtuse didn't help the emotional breakdown. So I sulked, had a good cry, got my back popped, had Mexican, and went to bed early.
Today, I'm marginally better. Maybe the cold front helped. I'm still sulky towards Chad about the damn phone thing (Why am I being punished for your decision to hate phone calls? Have to remember to ask him that.) but less sulky towards life in general. I should write today. Not that knowing that I should makes it any more likely that I will write.
Then Wil Wheaton finds the formula for procrastination.
I got nothin'.
I'm going to go write. And if the sulky mood still makes me cause the planet to die in a supernova, I fully expect somebody to tell me it doesn't work and I need to try again.
I'm at least typing today on the stuff that I had written previously. And the title of the post refers to what I said when I dumped my black bag out at work. Two of the folders in it I thought were lost in my office.
There is a new renaissance festival in Louisiana! Check out the Acadiana Medieval Faire at: http://www.acadianafaire.org/