It can't always be rainbows and butterflies.
I have found myself smack-dab in the middle of a winter funk.
Fair enough. I have no credible reason for being so happy so much of the time. Foolish optimism typically keeps my spirits higher than they should be on any given day, so cold, dreary weather, accompanied by financial uncertainty, growing debt, looming internship application deadlines and the overall burden of life as a medical anomaly are legitimate reasons to be bummed. And I have them all. Right now. And the only one that will go away any time soon is the internship application deadline, which will then be followed by three months of waiting on the answer to said application.
I realized that I was down in the dumps when I was dog-sitting at Mark's earlier this week. I opted to watch television (terrible idea, I know). Cooking shows seemed to be the best possible option -- and the buggers were all making gluten, playing with gluten, celebrating gluten, rolling in gluten. So I cried. Big crocodile tears.
I miss bread.
Somehow, I don't think this is all about bread, but living gluten-free is doing me no favors -- at least not in the mood category.
The tears came back a few days later -- while looking at soup recipes. (One had the nerve to call for orzo.) Bigger and more crocodilian. (Did you know that tears roll right off of a cat's fur? Pretty cool, actually.)
In any case...I'll find a way to drag my arse through this funk. Mark is being very nice (as always) to the new, less cheerful, less talkative me. I hope I don't stick around for long. I don't like me like this.