Therapy

My day started out poorly.

My fault - I admit.  I made a 6 a.m. phone call I definitely should NOT have made - and my emotional angst in regard to this less-than-satisfying conversation was excessively exaggerated by the onset of my freaking period - a fact I was actually glad to realize because it reassured me that I was NOT sinking back into a depression when I chose to lie in bed for another four hours instead of getting up, working out, doing laundry, and going to church - I was merely hormonally challenged.

So, yeah - I indulged in minor self pity.  But I got hooked on an all-day The Secret Life of the American Teenager marathon, which is actually a great thing because deep down I'm still that same girl who used to put on Air Supply and sob her eyes out every time she was sad over some silly boy who had "broken her heart" (meaning he probably just didn't know I existed - or maybe he simply liked someone else).  So drowning in the emotional agony of this poor teenage girl and her angst-ridden peers was incredibly therapeutic.  My teenage students frequently write about how they love music for its ability to enhance a mood.  I personally like to dramatically over inflate my anguish.  I think it burns out more quickly when you douse it with accelerant.

So after my four hour pout, I got up, did my hair and makeup, and went to meet a friend for lunch.  I over indulged there, too, since we went for Mexican and I inhaled chips and salsa AND a three item combo AND extra refried beans.  But I didn't have a margarita, and THAT is a major accomplishment. ;o)

So the fire was out, and by the time I got home, most of the ashes had disappeared in the wind.

And the marathon is STILL on, so I have extra emotional reinforcement.  Better go before I miss the end of it.  An all new episode airs tomorrow, and I am HOOKED!