Maybe it's the gloomy skies.
Maybe it's my little girl bemoaning the fact that work takes her from her infant daughter for twelve long hours, five days a week.
Maybe it's the realization that walking from Burtt and Ernie's house to the lecture at Centennial Hall and then back again will be more than my body can handle.
Maybe it's the minor tumult in my extended family, minor only because some of us have refused to rise and take the bait.
Whatever it is, it's sitting on my shoulders like stubborn dandruff. It won't be brushed away.
TBG is watching Disney's Zorro, reprising his childhood as the episodes unfold. His knee is acting up, his usual spin teacher has been ill, the substitutes have been unsatisfying, he didn't enjoy his food last night.... and Zorro seems to be putting him in a better place.
I wish it were that easy for me to change my mood.
I tried reading, but couldn't keep my mind on Amy Tan's courtesan's daughter.
I tried bagel-and-lox, but it only left me burping and thirsty.
I'm on my way to Pilates and then to meditation and then to spend some quality time with Mr. 9. Perhaps that will help. For now, I have nothing left in my bag of tricks.
I'm going to go with Heidi's prescription. I'm going to allow myself the privilege of having a bad day.