Epic

I have been in a shitty mood on and off now for six days straight. It's really quite extraordinary to experience. It is as if I am floating a pot of Bitch Stew, which has but two ingredients: water and me. On Sunday I pulled out all the stops -- I prayed! I knitted! I watched bad TV! I read on my sofa! I read in my bed! I laid in my bed!

Nothing worked. So I decided to just go with it.

There were rays of sunshine -- a short hike with OSB and her daughter (I carried her round trip on my back this time) on which I got her daughter to sing along with me to a Jack Wagner tune OSB can't stand -- oh and also whenever OSB sings her daughter says "Mommy, no!" I am tone-deaf but apparently music to her ears. This may make me seem like a horrible person but really it was all in good fun, I promise.

Sunday I babysat D, who is two-and-a-half and made me feel immediately better about myself by clambering up on the sofa next to me and showing me some of her toys. And her mom bought me a whole pizza. And I watched Harold and Maude.

Monday it was another kind of epic -- an epic walk with L, who's totally into that sort of thing, which is nice, because some people might get pissed off spending two solid hours meandering towards a bakery outlet store in a deserted industrial park on promise of free samples, only to find the bakery closed and have to stumble, weak-kneed from hunger, to a nearby Whole Foods, where we clunked wee plastic cups of free mango juice together in a toast to our journey and our lovable dumbness.

Then L and I had dinner at New England Eating's house and it was delicious.

Honestly I need to get back to the day at a time thing because it is only when I look to the future and get all monkey mind about it (well that combined with monster PMS) that I turn into a depressaholic punchbowl turd.