Don't Pull the Mask Off the Old Lone Ranger

I am in the surliest mood today. I've been stomping around the Treehouse, indignantly mumbling to myself at every turn. I've been softly kicking things out of my way when I walk, even if they weren't in my path. My clothes feel itchy. My brow hurts from being frozen in a constant scowl. I have my cranky pants on right now, and they don't show signs of coming off.

I blame the antibiotics.

Every time my phone rings, I grumble "Who is it NOW?" even though I haven't gotten enough calls to necessitate my fussiness. Every time my stomach lurches (which is often), I throw my hands up and say "You know what? I'm just going to bed," although I know that I have a lot of work to do and will end up destitute if I don't stay awake and complete these tasks.

I am wrinkling my nose as I type. Not in the cute bunny rabbit way, but in the bad smell way. Not attractive.

I am cold, then hot. I am wearing too few itchy-ass clothes, then not enough about two seconds later. There's nothing interesting on TV, and even if there was, I shouldn't be watching it. No one has emailed within the last hour. I am hungry but reluctant to eat, since the only thing that I want is crackers. But if I eat those, my sodium intake will be through the roof and that would be bad.

I chose today to look at caloric content of the food I eat and realized that it was a dangerous, ugly path I was heading down. Numbers swim in my head, including how many I burn when I exercise versus how many I take in. I don't know how close the numbers are. Could this be why my trainer had a Talk with me a few weeks ago? I'm clear on how many grams of sugar is in a Hostess Cupcake, but how do I figure out how many calories are in a potato? Or salad? Hellfire.

Every time I am inclined to take a break, I open the Best Of section on craigslist and read an entry. They are angry, sarcastic, and scathing, and I find them hilarious. However, the laughter brings no respite.

Crankiness winds its way through my bloodstream, pumps through my heart, and out again. I am in a funk because I am busy hating antibiotics. They futz with my birth control and dry my skin out. They make my headspace cloudy and my countenance undesireable. I want some covers to hide under.

*sniff*. g