This week officially sucks-- and it's only Wednesday. Is there really a point to hashing out all the miserable details just so you can be mired in the miserable muck that started out as Monday? I know they say, "Misery loves company" but, really, I just like to be left alone with a good book, some mellow music, and an empty cup to catch my tears. Well, not really. It just sounded good, poetic, to say, er, write.
I don't catch my tears; in truth, I rarely grant them release. I guess part of the reason why is that I'm afraid of what would happen should the flood gates be thrown open. Maybe I should come with a QMV warning system like they have with hurricanes and other natural disasters because me giving in to tears would be exactly that, a disaster.
So, no, I won't spew a litany of grievances against the fates for the abuse I've endured these last three days. Nay, I shan't. Even though I'm not too happy with the three traffic tickets I received from an over-zealous cop (it's the end of the month) as the rain clouds preempted the sunset. I won't complain; I'm here, relatively healthy, and whole. I won't complain because to do so would be an invitation to the tears that threaten to fall at any given moment. And I don't think this house is stocked with enough tissue.
In case you haven't realized it by now, I'm depressed. I'm recognizing it for what it is and am working out to combat it. I had just finished working out an hour or two before I received my tickets. Guess that's why I wasn't in such a bum mood about them. Monday, I started working out with my best friend/colleague immediately after work in the gym: 20 minutes walk/jog on the treadmill and about 20 minutes of strength. Today, we added jump roping. I think I'm going to have to keep up with the working out this school year; it's really burning the stress hormone. Yesterday, I skipped it (had to register my son for school) and I was an emotional wreck.
Today, not so much.
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