The Funk is Over

My little Poor Me funk is on its way out. It was actually completely gone on Saturday. I did some revising, Mark and I took a pal out on a nice birthday dinner, and then we all went to a showing of Opportunity's landing at our local satellite lab. I was riding a nice buzz after watching NASA's live feed of the landing and clapping along with everybody and thinking about all the cool things we're going to be learning this year. And then I came home to a less than happy message on my answering machine, denoting the beginning of a small family crisis which consumed the rest of my weekend. I read a book, did the laundry, and made cookies instead of revising yesterday, mainly because I could just feel the tide of depression getting ready to break every time I looked at HD. Family matters have a way of consuming everything. And of keeping you up until 1 AM, sorting out the phone call you just finished at 12:30 AM. And of intriguing the muse, giving her a chance to scribble notes while muttering, "This is drama. I can use this. Much better than those silly plots she keeps insisting I inspired her to write." Staying awake so late also provides the opportunity of hearing your husband snore, gently prodding him awake enough so he stops, and then hearing him say, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." To which you can say, "No, it's OK. You're allowed to sleep right now." And then he'll respond, "OK, thanks," and mumble a nearly unintelligible "Love you" as his meager struggle with consciousness ends.