Which side of the bed did YOU wake up on?

Sometimes I wonder why I'm so darn unstable. I love blogging, I hate blogging, I'm happy, I'm sad now and I'm crying and don't even try to make me feel better, because if you do, I will become angry.  And then I will be sorry, and apologize, and you will become angry, because I apologized one too many times.  Just for the record, I don't ever hate writing, or reading comments (Who hates reading comments? Nobody, that's who, because getting comments rocks.) just that weirdo feeling I get when I think that whatever I'm going to write is going to be stupid, or when I don't want to be whiny, but I'm feeling whiny, or when the internet at my house is not working, so I have to do all my posting at the Big House, and that sometimes feels practically impossible.

She's whining. She's WHINING. About doing something she likes. Somebody shut her up.

Maybe a couple of hours of having my butt kicked in West African Dance class will sweat this mood out of me. It will certainly humble me, that's for sure. Nothing like stumbling across a dance floor, desperately trying to mimic the movements of a woman who is drop-dead gorgeous and almost thirty years older than you as she effortlessly shows those drummers who's boss, laying you out gasping and repenting of all your bad attitudes.

Attitudes like, poor me, poor, poor me. And like what am I, your servant? And this always happens to me.

Tomorrow is going to be a better day. I'm going to bust out the camera and get some shots of these adorable children who are flocking around my house. And I'll do some therapeutic laundry hanging and a little bit of knitting and knit myself into mental stability. Right.