I know that its partly hormonal, partly psychological and partly ---- God alone knows what else.
It reached a head last night when I got massively pissed at John for not helping put Pilar to bed and for trying to turn on the airconditioning when we all had a cold.
The climax was me yelling at him that he was a self-centered asshole that culminated in a weird stuffing-hangers-inside-a-
I woke up this morning resolved that this blue funk would end and that I would no longer be in a constant state of crankiness.
I choose to be happy.
Then forces of the universe decided it was a good day to shit on me.
(Episode 1) It started off with a phone call from the DFA, saying that there were problems with the requirements I had sent for Pilar's passport. There was a problem with her NSO birth certificate and I needed to submit a Certified True Copy from the City Hall. Plus they needed my passport.
Okay -- no skin off my nose. I have that CTC thingie (oddly enough), and I had no issues surrendering my passport --- as soon as I scanned it and stored it in my computer (just in case).
(Episode 2) So I went downstairs to hook up my laptop to the new multi-function center that John bought me as a present (yes, some women get flowers --- I get electronic equipment).
I tried to scan it. Error.
I tried to (photo) copy it. Error.
I tried to print something. Error.
What the f#$%?!?!
It's brand new! I just printed something on it a few days ago!
What the hell works then? The fax?
Nope. Nix that.
The only thing that works on the damn thing is the phone handset.
Whoppity f@#$ing do.
These catastrophes are punctuated by small (but equally irritating) events --- running out of laundry soap just as you've loaded the washing machine.
Being out of one ingredient out of 12 to cook a dish --- but its the most important one of all and you can't use a substitute.
Having a sleepy 3 year old request for hot dog for dinner ---- only for her to refuse to eat it after you've obsessively cut it into 5 million tiny pieces to make it easier for her to chew.
The universe is out to get me. But I won't let it.
As much as I would love to blow my top --- I choose not to.
I CAN choose to be happy. Or at least I can choose not to sweat the small (and big) things.
Sing it Duncan Sheik:
I'm on a high, I'm on a high
there's nothing more to it.
We are the sea and the sky
and the blue that runs through it, yeah.
and there are some who say there are so many things I need
so I run or I fight and I crawl or I scream and I bleed
I bleed, I bleed
well, it's a lie it's a lie - don't you believe it.
if you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it.
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness.
I'm on a high I'm on a high
and there's nothing more to it
I have the sun, it's a star
why should I refuse it
and there are so many reasons I could give you why I should be down
there's not enough money or time and my love you're not around
around, around
but it's a lie it's a lie - don't you believe it.
if you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it.
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness.
you're alive you're alive - how else could you hear me?
you are fine, you are fine - there's nothing worth fearing
'cause there never will be no conspiracy of happiness
I'm on a high, on a high
we are the sea and the sky
I'm on a high, on a high
I'm on a high
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