lo-hi morning

What a trying morning. On/Off. Hot/Cold. Up/Down. I would say I'm PMSsing, but I'm not, and even when I do, my mood swings are usually subtler and better contained. But not today.

The cat was jumpy from the minute I opened the bedroom door. Dudley quickly rose to get out of the way, but soon settled back down on Pat's warm, filthy camo pants - perhaps he knew better than to stay under foot. My hair's full of flyaways, including a stubborn strand that flips resolutely out over my right ear, making for an odd, lopsided silhouette. My forehead and the tip of my nose are still dry and flaky, remnants of dry, heated air. I finally remembered to grab that envelope I've been meaning to mail, but I kept going up and down the stairs, to get the envelope, then my watch, then because I forgot the envelope I'd put down, then I realized my sneakers were downstairs.

Rounding the corner of my street, I almost stepped on a frog. I couldn't have done much more damage, as it has been flattened by a car, its innards spewed out over a respectable distance from its backside from the pressure.

Barely three houses fuether, my neighbour drove up and offered me a lift. It was only part way, it meant I would miss the mailbox, and it kinda shot my eco-motivation out of the water, but I accepted nonetheless; they are our friendliest neighbours - I didn't want to be rude. As she dropped me off, maybe a mile or so up the road, a low-flying V formation crossed the sky. A baker's dozen. Only one of them honked loudly. I found another mailbox along the way, and the thought that I would be early for work cheered me up because it meant I could leave earlier too. I kept walking and turned onto the boulevard.

Now, I'm well-acquainted with the trash that litters the most perillous segment of my route. There are four 10-oz. bottles of vodka: 3 Troika and a single Smirnoff. Did they all come from the same source, I wonder? And if so, did their taste evolve over time, or did they drink the good stuff first until they just couldn't taste it anymore? Further on, there's a diaper that looks like its been there for ages yet steadfastly refuses to decompose. But today, I discovered a new piece of litter, just pas the highway overpass: a flattened stuffed spider, like a cheap Beanie Baby rip-off. It startled me anyway, with all its legs spread out to what would be an impressive width in the arachnid world.

*As I wrote this down on paper, I got a paper cut. !@#$%? *

Soon after, I heard a car horn, and my own car pulled up beside me. Turned out the dogs had been barking since I left, and Pat wanted money...for something he deems essential, and something I see as utterly worthless. I ripped into him, probably worse than the situation actually warranted. But it's the same basic argument we've been having for years. Ten years, in fact. And he hasn't done a thing to help. So whenever he opens that door, even just a crack, I let him have it. I just don't know how else to get my point across.

At work, it appeared that I wasn't the only one having difficulty: two close-working colleagues (both in function and working quarters) also went at it, the elder basically pissing at the four corners of her territory in a not-so-subtle display of seniority. The younger busybody may have had it coming, I don't know. I was too busy imploring Buddha to help me stay out of most of the morning's conversations, just in case.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped, just like a sudden downpour; everyone returned to normal, and the rest of the day was entirely uneventful.

Or, in six: Up/Down loop. Then, normalcy returned.

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