Today is "one of those days" and it's not even noon. And I can't explain it. Friday is a reading day for my kids: Mae's reading Watership Down (she loved the idea of warrior bunnies), Oliver's reading Hope Was Here (chick lit, if you ask me -- it was the shortest book I offered. I'm making him read Louis L'Amour next. Not exactly on a school reading list, but a little more macho for my 12 year old boy), Nathaniel's trying to get away with reading Calvin and Hobbes. Soon to move on to Ralph S. Mouse. So the kids are quiet and good. Louie's going a little nuts upstairs, playing with Nathaniel's marbles (wait, that means Nathaniel left his marbles out), and the dogs have the good sense to leave Lou alone, for fear of having their noses scraped bare.
So why the melancholia, the jitters, the unsettled feeling? Maybe it's hearing from my Florida friends and hearing that their lives have gone on as normal -- without me? As it should be. Ok, I'm about to whine and throw a major pity party if I don't rein it in here. No pity parties allowed on this blog. That's one of the rules. As of right this second. I'm WAY too good at throwing pity parties and will not allow myself to give in to that temptation here.
Ever have one of those days? I think I'll just change my mindset and my actions right now and not have one of those days. So excuse me while I make some hot cocoa and dive into a good book of my own. Until I write again ...