white flag

i woke up at around 7 this morning, and somehow, the day was already halfway down the hill and gaining speed. i'm not sure how this is possible, really. i mean, unless there were lingering-but-too-fuzzy-for-contemplation dreams from the night lurking in the corner waiting to pounce on my day before it had begun, there's really nothing that can go too wrong when one simply wakes up and feels refreshed enough.

and yet, somehow, every single thing that has happened today has made me want to spit, kick, pull hair, and finally hurl myself to the floor for a full-out tantrum the likes of which i don't recall getting away with even at the age of 2-ish.

it makes no sense to me, really.

nothing bad has happened today. absolutely nothing. hell, nothing "sort of not good" has happened, either. not even anything "so-so" has happened. if anything has happened amidst all this nothing, it has been good, in fact.

i managed to completely clean the bathroom, instead of putting off the mirror to another day, or waving a forgiving hand at the slivers of leftover soap in the corner of the shower, or sighing that the trash can really isn't *that* full.

i cleared off the dining room table, and even got rid of the crumbs from making sandwiches and cheese-n-crackers on it. the cutting board that was an established piece of dining room table paraphenalia is clean and put away, not clean and put back. so too, the knife for cheese-cutting (a specific knife that is cleaned between use, put back on the table, and never sees its brethren and sistren in the knife block) is in its home. yes, i'll admit to putting dishes where i use them often, and not necessarily where they "go" or "belong". there's a pitcher that only leaves my office to be rinsed out and refilled. it "belongs" in the kitchen cabinet. the crock pot, when in use, goes on Ems's rolley kitchen thing. when it is not in use, it goes on Ems's rolley kitchen thing. when it's between states, it's in the sink being washed. it "belongs" in a cupboard. so yes, the cutting board and knife that lived on my dining room table for ... at least two semesters now ... weren't out of the ordinary.

for that matter, i put away the extra rolls of toilet paper from the 64 pack i bought a long time ago. the roll count is highly exaggerated, but the premise is the same... it belongs on top of the cabinet, but who uses the toilet paper up there? when you find that you need another roll, you're usually in the middle of something delicate, and would be willing to give/do quite a lot to have that fresh roll nearby instead of way, way out of reach.

i've listened to nice music all day long, i've accomplished several tasks that i've been putting off or only half-completing all summer long, and i've even knitted a mini-potholder in various shades of green.

also, i've reassembled my syllabus, added several paragraphs to it, revised some portions, redistributed points between assignments, tinkered some more with webct, and portioned my two novels into chunks that should be tolerable for the sophomore mind. yes, this was all very frustrating, but not sufficiently to keep me in a perpetual state of pre-homicide.

in fact, Ems sent me a little comic that i quite loved reading. it made me laugh, and i needed it. and after i read it, i said thanks, and returned to my funk. i didn't mean to. it just enveloped me once more.

at this point, i've come to the unfortunate conclusion that there will be some stories i can't make myself pigeonhole into a term, a la 'plot' or 'symbolism'. i'm even thinking of making their papers longer and fewer to give myself more classtime to discuss stories. it's far, far too late to be having thoughts like these that would require too much overhauling.

i'm thinking what i really need is to wave a flag of surrender. sort of say 'fine. through no fault of anyone's, today has been completely productive and completely horrid. i give up. i'm going to bathe in my sparkling clean tub and knit another foot of the black and red scarf from that striping yarn my parents bought me for christmas. and then i'm going to take the maximum dosage of 'put me out of my misery to sleep' pills, slip on the 'make it pitch black in here' eye mask, and turn my back on today. you win. now leave me alone.'

the bedroom can wait to be vacuumed. the stories can wait to be organized. the webct can just hold on a while. the cats can deal with it when i kick them off the bed. charlotte has left me alone since breakfast. she knows. festus is a clueless sonofa... he's been in my path, under my feet, smack dab in the middle of my business all day long. come to think of it, he just might be a contributer to today's irritation.

but in any case, i *do* give up on today. i've done all sorts of praying, thinking exercises, musical therapy things, walks around the park, etc. and still can't shake the irritation. it's clingier than festus has been.

love and peace (and a bath, some tea, and a jumbo melatonin tablet)