I went to bed frustrated last night. Been doing that a lot lately. I worked and worked all weekend, when time allowed, on house stuff, and when I went to bed last night, you could not even tell. I swept, did dishes, vaccuumed, baked, cooked, cleaned out the refrigerator, defrosted the freezer, plus other random things like doing the money and running errands, and when I went to bed, the kitchen still looked like a disaster zone.
It's been like this for a few days. I feel fine, and then I hit my head coming up from the basement, I trip on a cat, or I drop something, and it's all shot to hell. I suck, the universe is coming to an end, I'm stupid and worthless, and my life is hell.
Then I remember to check my girl calendar.
Oh yeah, that's it.