No. No, I do not feel well. Not like, I feel sick, because that is just kind of normal. I am grumpy and grouchy and miserable.
I am not ready for all this daylight and sunshine. I want dark and snow and cold to keep on lasting. Maybe I can spend then summer in Antarctica - if they have internet.
My fingernails need trimming.
There. Now they are trimmed and have that uncomfortable, hard edge that takes most of a day to wear down.
Internet streaming radio is not being agreeable and nothing in my collection is interesting to me right now.
I have picked up and put back down about half a dozen books after reading the first few pages. I would sat that I want to go to the library, but I doubt I would find anything to hold my interest today.
I want to cook something, but I do not know what. Maybe I will go make some bread or something. We always have bread-makings.
Well... it is in the oven.
I had started to saute garlic, onion and rosemary for no good reason so I added it to brown rice and then an egg for good measure. Not the strangest “fried rice” I have made, but at least the house smells good.
Bread is out of the oven and cooling. Yes, I am going to have a piece. And we are definitely having sandwiches for dinner.
Things that irritate me:
When I am about to do something, then someone tells me to do that thing which I was about to do and insists that I would never do that thing if I was not constantly reminded.
“Elqueue, bring down your bathroom trash.”
“I am, Mum.”
“No you weren’t, you were going to the kitchen.”
“Yeah, to get a new liner.”
“You could have just taken it with you after bringing the trash.”
“But then I would have to go back to the bathroom and I wasn’t planning on doing that any time soon.”
“No need to be a brat about it. I was just reminding you, or it would never get done.” “Try me.” -- except I did not say that... out loud.
Similar to that is being reminded of something more than once before having the opportunity to do whatever it is.
“Don’t forget to return the library books.”
“Yeah, I’m going there tomorrow.”
“Okay, well, be sure to take your returns with you.”
(An hour or so later...)
“Be sure to return your library books tomorrow.”
“Would you feel better if I returned them now?”
“Don’t be a brat about it. Just put them where you won’t forget them.”
“Like, in my backpack? Where they already are?”
“That’s fine, as long as you don’t forget your backpack.”
Being told to be careful... when they really me, stop being a klutz.
“Then what was that noise I heard?”
“I dropped a fork in the sink.”
“Yeah, and be careful. You didn’t need to do that.”
Being told my arbitrary decisions do not make sense.
“Why did you do it that way?”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It doesn’t, but that way doesn’t make sense.”
“How would you like me to do it?”
“Do it however you want, but be sensible about it.”
I asked Dad if she was like that when they lived together. He said no, but her mum was like that as long as he’d known her.
No, I do not still live with Mum - not even during the summer, like I had been. Partly for the issues listed above, but... more because I like it at home. I mean, sure, there are days Dad and I hardly talk to each other, but even then, I think we are still closer than Mum and I ever were. Sure, I love my mum and all, but I seem to relate better with my daddy.
This whole thing is probably more ... personal than I want to post, so I am not sure I am going to.
Oh. Looks like I am going to.