First sign I wasn't in a good head-space was the moment at work when I decided the 1992 death of Glenn Brenner was suitable morning conversation. I actually made an officemate tear up. I made myself tear up. Bad start. This was followed by various office problems, including at least one computer issue that we, can't, explain, yet. Ugh. (A certain program's apparently changing stuff that only people should be able to change. "Gremlins" sound more and more plausible...)
Big thing was, I was not a nice person today. I was moody and difficult. The best description I've ever heard of mood is "driving at 8,000 rpm in first gear": much energy used to do little. I slogged through work, trying to make corrections and trying to find out the cause of mistakes in the first place. And more problems were put in front of me: (singing!) here's an issue, there's an issue, and another bigger issue, program issue, format issue, issue, issue, rant. (But is it a rant if you only think it?)
(Oh, by the way, in case you haven't noticed, when I get annoyed, I get weirder.)
I escaped work early (after starting early), waiting for a bus then riding it for only about a twentieth of the way off Pill Hill before hitting what's seriously the worst backup I've seen on the hill. I decided to walk off the hill, which I should've done earlier. I did make it home soon before the start of Saints-Falcons on Monday Night Football, but I was flipping through the channels before the game and I ran into...the late scenes of the film version of The Green Mile. I started to tear up again (man, that was an especially emotional book) and changed stations.
Thank goodness I could cheer then as everything broke the Saints's way. (23-3, y'all! 3-0 record!) And I did cheer. And at halftime, I got needed laughs online.
Time to prepare for a better day tomorrow. It's possible.