This morning I woke up super cranky. Well, I didn’t actually realize I was cranky until the sharpest replies started coming out of my mouth. It was weird, like an ABC Afterschool Special, where the body and brain have been switched and the soul doesn’t recognize itself. “Who is that shrew and why is she saying that with my lips?”
By lunchtime it hadn’t subsided at all, and I was at the point of indulging in self-destructive behavior, like eating, oh, I don’t know, about two cups of melted mozzarella cheese. It’ll improve my mood, I told myself. Cheese has magical, mood-improving properties.
Ultimately, what did help was hearing the darling little boy visiting my 5 year old daughter say the blessing on our lunch (er, cheese.) It was the sweetest little prayer in the most precious voice. It melted away at least 35% of my grumpiness. Bless ‘im! And then when he came in and three times asked me, “Where are the heads?” an additional 35% evaporated. (He was asking about the stack of Lego Mini-Fig heads, I eventually divined.) What a good thing he came to play.
Anyway, overall I was so irritated with the fact that I was irrationally irritated, that I asked myself, why do we have to have these off days?
And the inner writer in me answered: “So we can write fight scenes. And breakup scenes. And domestic drama scenes–and not ruin an otherwise lovely day on a day when we’re feeling quite delighted with the world.”
And so, I leave off the editing I’m finishing up (just 15 pages to go out of the 1000+ I’ve done in the past three weeks) and heading over to my work in progress, where I fully intend to scratch out a few good fight scenes with that residual 30% grumpitude.
Might as well make the most of it!