I find myself wanting more people to have read "Bellwether" by Connie Willis, so they know what the mood "Itch" is. But lately I haven't realized I was feeling Itch until I was already squabbling with everyone I talked to, or snapping at the kids, or subsiding into a pool of tears to Flar, with that totally useless "no I don't know why I'm crying, I just am".
Going shopping helped family more than it helped me -- they got to be rid of me for an hour or two. I mean, I had fun while I was out, but I came home not only feeling Itch, but realizing it.
So I didn't get nearly as much done this weekend as was on my list of things to do -- maybe it'll help me to get a start on them today. When we were deciding what to do yesterday, Flar suggested that I just spend the day in bed, reading. Hell, I should have at least taken a bubblebath, since I wasn't doing anything fun or useful.
So, in the interests of keeping track... It seemed to start on Saturday, but I wouldn't swear to it, since I don't twig to it until it starts affecting my interactions with others. It could have started on Friday when I slept in the entire morning. But since I was up until 1:22am the night before, I figured that was explainable. And I *did* wallop the kitchen on Friday night, so the blah hahn't set in, yet.
This morning I still feel pretty blah, and my back has this sharp pain in the "carrying the cares of the world" area.
I guess I'll declare it to be "over" when I laugh at jokes and feel energetic enough to tackle a job around here and finish it.