I feel like the village idiot right now. I'm really upset over losing my favorite pen. So upset that I find myself half on the verge of tears over it. There is no rational reason for this. Yes, I lost my favorite pen. But it's just a pen and I have a similar one that I can use right now.
It kinda encapsulates today. The morning was fun with laundry (and I lack the verbage to adequately express the sarcasm here). I tried to get some writing done but I was interrupted. I didn't have my favorite pen then either, but I was just happy with the cheapie that I had at the time. I kinda found myself in a position of somewhat forced socialization.
On one hand, I'm pleased with how that turned out. I think I may have someone buying my book because of it. At the same time, I was upset because I really wanted to write more in my journal. Then I got home and I tried to work on some other things but it just didn't work out. Right now, I'm cooking dinner and half expecting that to go sideways on me. (I know, that type of attitude invites trouble. I'm not having much success adjusting it right now.)
The thing that really makes me mad is the fact that I should have had a good day today. I got a bunch of stuff done. I averted a problem. And I even managed to have the kids behave despite being stuck in the house all afternoon. But I'm tired, upset, and angry. I guess it is because of my brain chemistry, but it feels like a pathetic excuse.
I've been forcing myself not to start worrying over things. I guess that may be part of the crankiness too. I don't know. I just hope that tomorrow goes better. And that my damn pen turns up.