I lost it a little bit today. One minute I was making eggs and the next, my husband had booked tickets to something and I was running for the edge. I saw the precipice, took a long, last stride….and weeeeee! I was soaring into crazy-town.
My fight was something about this and a little about that. I didn’t growl, but I’m pretty sure I snarled a bit. And I definitely made some faces. The thing is, I am spent. After several weeks nursing my entire family back to health…and working…and dealing with the laundry problem we seem to have (it’s multiplying, I’m sure of it)…and emptying the blasted dishwasher every day (I’ve got a love-hate thing going on with that machine)…and chasing naughty children, I feel like an evil version of my old-self. Bye bye, funny me. Hello, coo coo me.
The tickets were for a beach club in Santa Monica that one must reserve in advance. So next week I’m putting on my suit and taking the family swimming whether I feel like it or not. And I probably will feel like it. And like that stupid fiddle thing I got dragged to last weekend, I’ll probably have a good time. I’m just tired. And crazy. And definitely not suited for operating large machinery.