One of those days

I'm still partying. Nothing can make me smile. Lucky's coos are precious, but no smile from his mommy. Stinkerbell's singing is great, but no smile from her mommy. The Mighty Hunter kissed me good-bye as he left for work this morning; I forced myself to smile, lest he think I didn't want the kiss. But it was insincere.

I'm thinking of calling the doctor about that anti-depressant they've offered.

I'm thinking of a glass of wine or 7.

I'm thinking of all the clothes I have that I can't fit my fluffy butt into.

I'm thinking of the grass that finally started growing again and needs cutting for the first time since before Father's Day.

I'm thinking of the angry songs on my ipod that I'll listen to and sing along with while mowing the jungle that is my yard.

I'm thinking that eventhough it would mean a lot for The Mighty Hunter to sleep in the same bed as me tonight, I'm not sure I want him that close to me.

I'm thinking that I can't think of anything that can make me smile right now.

No smiles today. Just angry and hurt tears.

And poop. The red-faced, head-swelling, grunting, straining, poor-baby kind of poop. It suits my mood perfectly.

At least I got to eat my salad without juggling everyone else's lunch at the same time.

Where'e that doctor's phone number? Nevermind, I know it....