H.A.L.T. Anyone?

I've been feeling horribly out of sorts this afternoon. Earlier in the day I was sort of swish, but as happens sometimes to the unfortunately moody, my emotions took a swift downhill turn for no reason whatsoever (well, apart from dwelling on silly worries about having possibly offended someone, and instead of asking her if I had I just got a bit churlish in myself. And then the thoughts just continued rolling downhill like Jack and Jill as the clock inched forward and I took pity upon myself, considering what a pathetic specimen of humanity I am, always destined to put my foot in my mouth, and how everyone was laughing at me behind their hands, and blah and blah and blah blah blah. Terribly boring and annoying and a complete waste of a day, but what can you do?

So late this afternoon, as I walked the streets feeling sorry for myself and shedding a tear (it's true, dear reader), considering my poor lonely existence with only fleeting social interludes to remember me to my fellow brethren and sisthren, wondering if I should gas myself in the oven and then feeling annoyed that my oven is electric, I had the thought:

H.A.L.T.

Am I, I asked myself through my tears, Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired? I hid myself behind my hair as I did, walking past the Sri Lankan man taking his rubbish bin out to the kerb and too proud to be seen crying on the street, a frumpy old hag only fit to be set beside his red-lidded rubbish bin and taken off to the tip tomorrow morning with all the stinking Glad bags.

Okay. I'll stop now.

Where was I? Oh, yes. H.A.L.T. Well, I have already informed you I was feeling a tad weepy and lonely at that point in my walk (dogless, with Lester at his father's abode) but then I realised what the problem is with me: garden variety tiredness.

Plain old going to bed at 4am on Friday night and then daylight savings the next night and now here it's made me a haggy old baggy discombobulated cactus head getting all maudlin over the life I was perfectly happy to be inhabiting yesterday and the day before. I hate getting emotional; it's so uncool. And it makes my delicate under-eye area all congealed like soggy bruised looking tissues and then I feel REALLY haggy.

And it's tiring being so emotional. It is excessively tiresome being like Queensland in the morning and then like Tasmania in the afternoon and now it's evening and I'm Melbourne (ie, who the hell knows from one minute to the next?)

(Still, making fun of myself has put me in a really good mood now. Sometimes you need to tell yourself you're just a big stupid dick and then suddenly everything is okay again :) Now I know I'm not having a nervous breakdown and I'm just tired :)