ROAR. I HATE IT.

For instance, the cold (which it's not, hardly) is completely intolerable. It's because it was so warm last week. It shouldn't be so, but there it is. I can't accept the cold anymore. And the days suddenly seem shorter again. Is it fall already? Did I sleep through spring?

Then this: I am dirty. I needed a shower this morning but I didn't get up in time because the fucking alarm clock didn't ever go off and I also couldn't take the dogs for a walk and so MY WHOLE DAY IS RUINED.

Also, I snapped at Jeff. I think I did. Something about him taking the dogs for a walk and being late to breakfast with Mr. Brown. Maybe I just thunk it. There weren't no cause, just me being irritated with myself for walking up so late plus we're having a really horrible and stupid pizza party today for which I bear the entire responsibility for the planning and execution. Blast.

And that meant that I had to stop and get all these stupid supplies at the grocery store on the way in. And then I remembered that I still haven't got rid of all those bags of garbage in the back of the truck and then I got embarrassed because what if somebody at the library saw all that trash next to the plates from which they will soon be eating their delightful pizza? Motherfuckers, every last one of em.

Plus there are 400 pounds of concrete--hard now because of the fucking rain and such--in the back there too.

I am plain crabby. That's it and that's all. I want to not be here. I want to be at home because we got our seeds and I want to make flats and cold frames and get started already. I worry about not getting the chicken coop project completed by the time those boys, Jay and Shawn (formerly j-bird and sfitz, but I'm sick of that), come over. And Jeff is supposed to leave town for about a week (been supposed to do that for a over a month now, but things just keep on coming up and now it's all down to the wire and now his truck is running ragged, the bucket truck hasn't got a transmission, and just last night, the iveco seemed to shut right down. ROAR)and they're coming in a week! I want...what? I want less anxiety. I am swimming in it, children. Positively. And, really, this is all stupid shit. It doesn't matter and it will be fine fine fine (oh when oh when will we not be completely and totally BROKE every second of the day?)

And then there is all I am not doing. All that I should be doing for my friends who I miss and I do nothing to show them how I miss them. I get home from work, walk the dogs, eat supper and then BAM, I'm out. The sleep monster stalks me.

I must stop, must get myself moving because twenty fucking pizzas will be arriving here in one hour and it just makes me want to run screaming into the wilderness.