I Got The Blues

Okay, I think I’m officially in a funk. I suspect its part post-vacation blues and part lack of outdoor activity, with a smidge of financial stress and a dash of PMS (which, I can tell you, does not help ANYTHING). When I was grumpy on Sunday, I wrote it off as empty-house syndrome, which crops up every time Brian works a 24-hour shift at the Fire Department. When I was grumpy on Monday, I did my best to ignore it, mainly because, well, I’m grumpy EVERY Monday. But this is the third day in a row I’ve been grumbling along, and I can no longer discount the fact that I’m not my usual cheerful (well, less-grumpy) self.

Being that there’s no obvious exterior reason for my miserable attitude, I have to assume that my interior parts need some adjusting. I’ve already started by eating healthier, which definitely fell by the way-side while I was living it up in Quebec and Tampa. I’ve also reinstated my exercise routine which, as much as I hate to admit, plays a big role in my mental well-being. I’ve been getting enough sleep, so that’s not the issue, and I’ve been squeezing in as much quality time with Brian as possible, which is never enough as I’d like but that's life, right?

So, really, what else can I do? Tonight I plan to hit the gym hard to exhaust my grumpiness into submission. I also plan on going food shopping, which I actually think is pretty fun and will result in an overall cost-savings that is sure to ease my financial worries a bit. And if that doesn’t do the trick, there’s always yoga, my dog, and a good old-fashioned veg-out in front of the TV. But somehow, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking it’s not going to be enough. There’s a bigger dissatisfaction that’s lurking inside me, and I really need to figure it out. Well, actually I've already figured it out. At this point, I'm just hoping it'll go away.

But maybe that’s just the PMS talking…what do I know?

All I know is that I’d better be in a hell of a lot better mood come tomorrow or drastic measures will be called for in the form of ice cream, chick flicks, booze, and a good cry. It’s never pretty getting yourself back on the right track, but sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and become a cliché. So here’s hoping I a different woman tomorrow, because lord knows today has been sacrificed to my inner-bitch. Let's just hope that she's satisfied.