Lately, everything irritates me. Everything. If someone waits too long to pick up a phone, I find it tooth-grindingly excruciating. Morning traffic makes me want to strangle a puppy. Lines at the bank jimmy my sanity up at the edges.
My focus is almost gone...too many close calls in traffic; too many slipped tasks. I didn't want to know that I was this close to nonfunctionality. Argh.
My creativity suffers pitiably from the amount of energy it's taking to handle the mussed logistics of this transitional moment. I miss creative-me - whether it's cooking or building something or so much as taking a few photos. I wonder how long it's going to be before I have the reins back in hand.
It's like Eddie Murphy in Bowfinger - "Keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogether." And don't show it to the Lakers girls.
I do so love to make plans. I love graphs and spreadsheets and charting a course. I love to talk about things that will happen weeks, months, years from now. Decades, even.
I'm starting to wonder if this makes me, officially, stupid.
If plans never come to be, then what's the point of expending the energy to make them?