Or maybe bah crumbug.
Whatever. I feel like crap.
Crap warmed over. Crap on a stick. Crap on toast. Crap crap crap crap crap!
I'm fairly certain I shouldn't hang out under where people are dangling pianos from a pulley. That's how crappy I feel.
And apparently how crappy my powers of conveying a mental impression are. See, if I were to stand under a dangling piano, I'm pretty sure it would FALL ON ME. That's how crappy everything is right now.
Sore throat. Headache all weekend and today, particularly if I turn my head just so (throb Throb THROB). Today I almost fell off/over my chair. I didn't fall on the floor, but the jolt as I fell onto the chair's seat hurt nearly as much. Now my back hurts too. And I think I have cramps. WTF?
whine Whine WHINE.
I don't feel like doing much of anything. Except sleeping and reading. I found this great new author over the past week (Nalini Singh, really like her Psy-Changeling series in particular) and really would rather read than do just about anything else.
Including eat, clean, exercise. Bathe. You know, the usual.
A sign of non-specific free-floating anxiety. Precursor to a big depressive episode.
Hmm, not totally sure.
But I will say, I would be a LOT happier if after four-plus years I could get a raise without having to go ask for one. It sucks to feel as if I'm the one who holds it all together/meets all the deadlines/does all the work and not be recognized in (almost) the slightest for it. I have to start working weekends again next week. There's just too much to do and I'm usually the only one who ends up doing it.
I think I will book a massage this week. Maybe that will help rub the crap right out of me.