Some days any thing and every thing irritates and pisses me off.  I think today is one of those days.  It is as if I’ve forgotten to put on my wine tinted glasses.  I feel like snarling at the world.  Oh yea, I keep it to myself, that is up to now.  But then this is really about me – a monolgue between me, myself and I.

So don’t take it personally or seriously.  After all, it is just a mood.  It will pass.   Meanwhile, I might as well use it to fuel myself into action.  I feel as if I need a stick of dynamite to get me going.  This feeling of inertia can fool me sometimes. It plays jokes on me frequently.   Even though I feel like a puddle of jello, I haven’t really been sitting on my ass and picking my nose.

I have been moving, however slow I may feel.  I have 6 jars of spaghetti sauce to show for it.  A load of towels have been through the washing machine.   Sheba has been around a block or two, then brushed and defurred somewhat and the floors vacuumed of her sheddings.  It has taken me all day to do it.  Not that I am exhausted or anything, BUT…

image from google.ca

Wish I could be more efficient.  Wish I could be more exuberant.  Wish I do not have these episodes of puddledom.  If wishes were horses, where would I be?  I would be riding on the winds of elation, clearing hurdle after hurdle.  I would be riding to win the Freakness.  I would be riding to freedom.

I’m almost there now.  It is almost within my grasp.  My horse is kicking up the dust.  I am standing up in the stirrups.  The wind is whistling in my ears.  The crowd is but a blur but I can hear them cheering me on.

AND I AM OVER THE FINISH LINE!

If wishes were horses, I could do a lot of things – like ride to the moon and play among the stars. Doesn’t that sound just lovely?  Though wishes are not horses, I am over the finish line.  I am riding the ride, chanting the I CAN, I CAN rant.  Rah, rah, rah!  My fingers are flying across the keyboard, tapping out the letters, the words, and the story.

OK, life, what the hell do you want from me?  Get off my back.  I am living and writing as best as I can.  Your mountains are pretty steep and your valleys get so low.  I am tiring of singing “Aint no mountain high enough”.  I’m no Diana Ross.  I’m calling you.  I could use some help – a break or two.  I won’t hold my breath.  While I’m waiting, I’ll carry on as best I am able.