I feel like a prat.

I've got some thinking to do. And some journaling.

I have been feeling disconnected and bitchy for two days and I'm not sure why.

My only insight is that I suspect my soul is finally revolting against my needs not being met. I keep not meeting my own needs, in an attempt to meet someone else's. Everybody else's actually.

Case in point: I've been jonesing for a hot bath and a book for days now, and everytime I think I can squeeze it in something goes wrong. A kid's temper tantrum, a crying fit that needs lots of love and reassuring hugs, a little boy who THINKS he can't read wants to read me a story and I jump at the chance, a husband who says he wants to connect and snuggle with a movie in bed and then promptly falls asleep -- leaving me sucked into the movie but no closer to the tub, or today ... the piece de la resistance! I sink into the gorgeously hot water with coffee, water glass and book beside me. Read two lines. And am notified that my daughter has slipped in the mud and needs me to bring her clean clothes. Fuck.

I am so disappointed I am almost in tears. And why doesn't Paul go in my stead? Because he wants to take a shower before he would go, and he can't use our shower because it is in mid-tiling project, and he doesn't want to use the upstairs shower because our roommate is up there and -- I don't know, maybe he thinks Steve would not notice the closed door or hear the water running and accidentally walk in on him? Bottom line, I'd have to get out of the tub anyway, if I wanted Paul to go.

I really wanted to call him a rotten name.

After dropping off Aubrey's clothes (which the teacher's aide took from me saying, "She's in the class room, working. I'll take these to her. I think it is just her pants got a little dirty.") and realizing she possibly didn't need them as much as I was led to believe and possibly I could've finished the bath! I went ahead and weighed in at Weight Watchers but ditched the meeting and got a blackberry creme latte instead. And bought $73 worth of craft and sewing books.

Therapy.

I came back home fairly refreshed, but still in a funk. And here I am. Still funky.