This morning I woke up grumpy.

Not cheery. Not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Not ready to face the day. Not chipper. No butterflies and birdies circling my head. 


Grumbling about my mediocre (at best) night’s sleep, stressed about my deadlines today, pissy about how I ate over the weekend, at the ready to snap at the first person who might make the wrong comment to me.


I’m annoyed I forgot to make the kids’ lunches last night.

I feel like I spent half of yesterday washing other people’s dishes. Somehow, amazingly, I woke up to more dishes. There aren’t that  many people who live in this house.

I feel guilty looking at my dog because I know there is no way in hell that I will come close to matching her love and happiness and positivity today. I wish I could just explain it all to her.

I’m pissy at the unidentified racoon who went through my trash last night and left me a mess to clean up on the driveway this morning.

I feel overwhelmed because in my quest to totally clear my weekends of work-related stuff so I can relax and have true downtime after working what seemed like 7 days per week for years, I feel Monday’s onslaught more acutely than ever. The consequences of downtime (and, really, it didn’t actually feel  like down time) seem to be worse than the consequences of non-downtime. This is why I didn’t let up on weekends in the first place.

I feel annoyed because I started having dreams again, but I can’t seem to remember them in the morning. Of course, I am convinced that precious ideas and inspiration are vaporizing into the night.

I feel like my mental energy could be so much better spent on feeling grateful for the amazing opportunities and possibilities and freedoms my life affords me. And, yet, the gratefulness is overshadowed by the grumpiness. Gratefulness eludes me.

I feel regretful because I seem to be really good at taking out my grumpiness on people who don’t deserve it.

I feel panicky because I am anticipating that feeling of sitting down at my desk, already feeling as if I am behind the 8-ball and not knowing what to do first.

I am feeling what is decidedly not compassion for myself for everything I seem to have fallen short on from eating to planning ahead to being able to live in the present moment.

I am feeling a tad better after writing this, but not much more than a tad.

Today is one day I cannot afford to be Grumplicious.

And, yet, that is exactly what I am.