I'm crabby. My neck hurts. I'm tired of spinning my wheels. I wish I could move out of my house tomorrow instead of this summer. I'd spent so much time dreading the day that we have to give this place up that I kind of hadn't noticed that I've kind of started to hate it. (Roo, who has moved in and out of this house no fewer than three times, knows all about the attract-and-repel aspect of living here, in what's either a fun, quirky, comfortably rambling house or an oppressive, fucked-up, grimy shithole, depending on your mood.)
Anyway, I don't have the energy to do anything about any of this right now, except to bitch (and bitch and bitch), and I suspect doing that will just snarl me up even more. So, freed from the tyranny of my own good cheer and sociability, I will now drink a beer and sullenly sit in judgment on everything I can think of. Cheers!
P.S., 90 minutes later: Sitting in judgment is boring. I'm gonna go watch TV.