The dog shit all over the carpet this morning. All over our pretty cool, high-pile gray wool rug.
She's got some booty bugs that are obviously creating a disgusting mess for all of us. Off to the vet we go.
But first, when there's no mercury retrograde to blame, how do you explain mood funk?
At a time when literally everything is being designed and programmed to stimulate, it seems obvious that Depression Lite is bound to kick in. Maybe that's an insensitive use of the term 'depression', but it's all I've got in the way of descriptors for what I mean here.
I've never heard a subway train honk until today.
In between the moments of riding high on distractions, I find my brain sort of crashes and my whole mood goes to shit. It can't be that I'm actually sad about the lulls, could it? Am I just bored? Or maybe it's that that kind of rollercoaster just isn't healthy for our souls.
Whatever the case, I'm setting out to embrace (hey, that rhymes, but this ain't no poem), and even try to cause moments of purposed down time. I think it will be good for me.
Off to deal with some shit. Dog shit.