I've been cleaning all day.
Mostly all day. Since I got home from work.
I've been in an entirely too shit mood for the last few days. I'm either ragingly upset, desperately sad, or overly hostile. I've been so busy that I haven't even noticed how overwhelmed I am. And this is taking on the character traits of an incredibly nasty downshift.
They've been fairly minimal for the last few months. Not minimal as in not there, just minimal as in a few days of being unlike myself, and then I feel better again. This is different.
I'm going to watch The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby, which is going to hurt my feelings, I'm god damn sure of it. I'm just in one of those moods.
I went and saw Interstellar last night, because obviously. I've been waiting for it for years. And it was worth every second of waiting. It was absolutely gorgeous. It also hurt my feelings, however. I cried a lot. Oh, well. I cried right into my Cherry Icee and nobody in the audience gave a fuck. I sat by myself and bawled my little heart out. So good. Go see it. It's brilliant and beautiful. Also kind of easy to call, but then again, I've always been good at that.
I'm going to make myself some popcorn and watch this movie so I can get into a good, long funk. Sounds healthy.
Equally as healthy is tomorrow morning's booze-o-rama for breakfast. Two dollar mimosas and a Mexican food brunch? Um yes please. I WILL be attending that, thank you very much, and I will not give a shit if people look at me sideways.
On a positive note, I've really started to enjoy my own company. There's something immensely lovely about taking myself out to a movie, or a meal, and bringing a book that I can read while not giving an iota of a fuck about people looking at me. Though the book only comes out if I'm eating somewhere. It's not so good to bring a book to a movie. I have poor eyesight, anyway.
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