Hateful

Bee Gees Song of the Day: How Deep is Your Love

I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You're the light in my deepest darkest hour
You're my saviour when I fall

I have been in a foul, hateful mood for two days. It’s not even emo. Emo is a lot of things, but this is not emo. Beyond a bad mood, this is vile, foul, salt and grease craving, wanna kick a puppy pugnacity.

Fortunately, my daughter is acquainted with this person and takes no offense. She’ll kiss me on the cheek and cheerfully go into whatever room I am not in. This of course, just p*sses me off (I didn’t say I was rational) but I don't tell her that. We both acknowledge that it's not her, it's me.

She knows that chattering this week will only make matters worse. In fact, I exercised my brutish behavior yesterday and told her to clean the refrigerator. She did a great job.

I shared my vileness with a work colleague, who commiserated completely. This helped. She suggested naming this person. This amused me and I felt a little glimmer. She pondered a little too long. OK, she was losing me because this pondering just p*ssed me off. She came up with name Murgatroyd. Well, that sealed it, hatefulness settled back into the little black hammock of my soul. Note to self: stay in corner for the rest of the week.

Remember the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is trapped on a subway that isn’t moving? A running dialogue inside her head is heard; at first trying to rationalize the situation, trying to calm herself down, only to eventually start screaming obscenities over and over and over in her mind?

That’s me.

It will pass.