It’s one of those days. Not good. Not bad. Not frustrating or petty or calm or happy or sad or
anything.
It’s just a day. It ends in “y”.
If I have to sum up today in one word: confused.
Not confusing. Confused. Just vaguely unclear but doesn’t know where or how or when it lost the thread.
My mood doesn’t normally reflect the weather. I feel for people who suffer SADD, but I don’t feel it myself.
But today maybe just kinda the weather and I are in sync. A bit. Sorta.
It’s been cold, cold and rainy, cold and snowy, cold and windy, not quite as cold, and holy m%&$erf#€¥ing it’s cold. But now it’s March. Not quite spring, but definitely closer to spring than winter. And it warmed up (low 70s on Saturday). And it rained again (Sunday was build-an-ark day, assuming you don’t already have two in your back yard), but that’s okay because spring showers and yadda yadda.
Today (a Monday only ducks could love) it’s cooler tho’ not cold, and it rained a lot in the morning but then it stopped, and the wind feels chilly at times but it’s not so strong we need a special National Weather Service statement about it.
It doesn’t feel like spring so much today. But it’s not winter (which resumes tomorrow).
Maybe Mother Nature basked in her warm sun and then splashed like a kid in her puddles. She was all set for spring. Then she noticed her fuzzy sweaters and kind of missed snuggling inside them.
And been the same today. Not quite warm, not exactly cold. Bored, watching the minutes creep past, yet frantically over-worked. Ready to head home, but reluctant to get in the car.
Nothing bad happened today and there were good parts. Stacy brought leftover squash curry soup, which was very yummy. It will be my final positive thought before sleep.
And now I’m on the couch. I ate a nice supper. Now what? Do I read? Or watch TV? I could sew for a bit. Torii’s claws need a trim. I could bring up the clean laundry. And there are always dishes to wash (the most fundamental law of adulthood).
But I’m not doing anything like that. I’m not doing anything period. Picking at my dry, cracked cuticles and robbing CVS are currently side by side on the scale of excitement. They equally rate a meh.
I’ll just kill time until I can legit call it bedtime.
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