Apparently, I’m in a mood. That’s what I was told, anyway.

Never mind that I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. Never mind that I’m looking ahead at our calendar and wondering how I’m going to make it through the next two months. (Never mind that I think the same thing every year. Never mind that the answer is always By the skin of our teeth.)

Because I’m in a mood, so the problem is clearly mine. No one else’s. There couldn’t possibly be any one of a number of reasons for why I’m quiet, why I’m tired, why I don’t feel like peopling.

Never mind all that. Just fix it. Suck it up, buttercup.

Hide your crazy and start acting like a lady.

This lady is going to bed. Because it’s far too peopley out there, and apparently, I’m in a mood.

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