the cure.

Despite all efforts, and I mean all, I have been a total grumplesaurus Rex. All week.
I've tried everything. Bubble baths. Beer. Songs. Food. (I ate a Cadburry Egg for breakfast Wednesday.) Glee. Glee songs. I spent extra time yesterday making up my bed perfect and cozy to go with the rain that was making beautiful noises on my tin roof outside with the screen door open and a cuddly kitty. I expected birds to pull back my covers this morning and have my clothes picked out. Not even close.
My face broke out after all. Just because I said it wasn't. (the first one literally popped up as soon as the motorcycle cop pulled up to the stupidest wreck ever and they've just multiplied with every conversation I have with an insurance company or my father.) Shaving my legs has been on my to-do list for about a week. I have no desire. I wear jeans every day and we're past the prickly stage. (I mean, I'm just keeping it real.) I'm curious what that really says about me when shaving my legs is on my to-do list and never gets crossed out? (don't answer that.)
I'm just really, really ready to be out of this mood. I've been on such a stretch of positivity and it's like I'm paying for it now. I'm trying to find my way out of it and every day I have a pep talk with myself and try to find a cure for the blues, but it just ain't shaking.
So, I'm actually in the bubble bath now. (I just got a flash of Rev. Run texting his inspirational message in the tub at the end of "run's house" episodes.) I'm also drinking a beer. I'm not eating anything. If I wasn't writing this, I might be watching or listening to glee. Or reading something or trying something else to make me happy. I'm honestly sweating profusely, in the bath, because I decided to make it extra hot to try to get out some of the toxins or energy or something, but now I'm just kind of conflicted about sweating in the bath. So, I'm gonna go now and actually shave my legs and if that's the game changer, I'll be really pissed.