I swear I must be manic-depressive. On Saturday I was so high on life, psyched about every little nuance, absorbing and enjoying all of my surroundings. Then, Sunday arrived. I crashed hard. I cried for no good reason. I almost killed my cat twice in a macabre dance of attempting to get up from the couch to answer the phone while she was underfoot (wrong place, wrong time), twisted my knee, "lost it", and everything just kept speeding downhill from there. Not even the musings of Richard Dawson could bring me back from the bad dark place.
I know I have given the advice to others that we have to ride the wave of life, the good and the bad (how would we know what good is if we didn't experience bad?), but, um...I want the good back, please. Thanks.
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