Cynical
Yep, that says it all.
I am out of sorts this evening. WAY out. Cranky as hell. No real reason, just the cumulative effect of life in general.
The trip back from Chicago was unspectacular. I drove and listened to Sunspot most of the way while drinking far too much iced coffee and Mountain Dew. Kevin was a pill. Thankfully, he slept the majority of the way back north. Thank you, thank you, thank you Sunspot for Scott Bakula! It always makes me laugh. Step On It describes my feelings toward my roommate pretty accurately…
I delivered goodies (tiramisu, gelato and sushi) to various friends, then went and picked up my dogs and home to bed. Actually, I spent a few unexpected hours at the home of The Lad - not in my plan, but pleasant anyway. I am really not sure why I am drawn to his company, but there it is.
This afternoon I met up with some friends for coffee, then The Lad for lunch and yet more coffee. I really had no desire to come home. The workload is overwhelming right now. My optimism is wearing thin.
So, I took some photos of baby Joey (cute and charming as always). Then took a long, hot bath and read a book about WWII submarines instead of accomplishing anything tangible. Keeping the little grey cells working seems productive enough.
I am continually disturbed by a conversation that I have had far too many times with The Lad. He constantly tells me that I speak too much like a professor and need to lighten up. Honestly. This is coming from a certifiable crumudgeon (OK , I use the term, but have no idea how to spell it). Do speech patterns really determine a person’s ability to apprecite life?