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Oh, that's not fair.
Jul. 27th, 2010 12:31 pmI was doing okay, I swear I was. I liked last week, with the kids; I liked this weekend, with my house to myself again, just pottering around among the books.
And I do know about mood swings, and indeed mood crashes, but this one? I could time it.
9.45 last night? Doing fine. Rupert Everett was being charming on the TV, and there's nothing wrong with me that Rupert Everett won't fix.
By 10.15? Suicidal. I dunno. Nothing happened. Just, everything went away.
Today I am going to keep moving. Stay ahead of it. I've been to the supermarket once already, with a load of jars for recycling; I might go back with another load. I might scrub the dining-room floor, before that paint sets rock-hard. I might just keep shelving, there's a lot to do.
In other news, the kids found my pocket camera and convulsed with giggles over its extraordinary age. People? That's a digital bloody camera! Old-fashioned is my mum's old Box Brownie that I took my first-ever photo with (of a cow called Nancy, since you ask). This thing is ten years old, twelve at the most. And okay, retrospectively I do realise that's the greater part of their lifetimes, tho' barely yesterday to me; but I still say it's their sense of time that's warped, not mine. Kids today, I say. They know nothing.
And I do know about mood swings, and indeed mood crashes, but this one? I could time it.
9.45 last night? Doing fine. Rupert Everett was being charming on the TV, and there's nothing wrong with me that Rupert Everett won't fix.
By 10.15? Suicidal. I dunno. Nothing happened. Just, everything went away.
Today I am going to keep moving. Stay ahead of it. I've been to the supermarket once already, with a load of jars for recycling; I might go back with another load. I might scrub the dining-room floor, before that paint sets rock-hard. I might just keep shelving, there's a lot to do.
In other news, the kids found my pocket camera and convulsed with giggles over its extraordinary age. People? That's a digital bloody camera! Old-fashioned is my mum's old Box Brownie that I took my first-ever photo with (of a cow called Nancy, since you ask). This thing is ten years old, twelve at the most. And okay, retrospectively I do realise that's the greater part of their lifetimes, tho' barely yesterday to me; but I still say it's their sense of time that's warped, not mine. Kids today, I say. They know nothing.