Lately I’ve been feeling bleh.

I am not looking forward to SAD season(which, dammit, gets me every year).
(I am especially not looking forward to SAD season plus pregnancy hormones.)

I’ve been in a major shutter slump.
The pictures I take have been ok,
but I’m just not picking up the camera.

I haven’t been able to focus.
And my patience?
Well, it’s virtually non-existent.

I find myself fussing at the children for stupid stuff.
And being annoyed with Marshall over really insignificant crap.

I know it, and yet I can’t seem to stop it.
And I really, really hate that.

As I was talking to a friend recently, I listened to myself…
And I realized I’m sounding a bit Eyeore-ish.
Bleh.
Bleh. Bleh. Bleh.
Nobody wants to hang out with Eyeore.

And so I’m trying, really trying to be more like Pooh.
Oh, who doesn’t love Pooh Bear?

All he needs is a little honey and some time with friends and he’s happy.

Even when he’s a little black rain cloud, he’s happy.
Even when he messes up and gets everything wrong,
Or (more accurately) doesn’t get everything right,
He’s still singing a happy tune.

So Daylight Savings, you can…well…you can (fill in the blank with obscenities).
Nobody likes a 6pm sunset.

And SAD?
I don’t want you.
I don’t need you.
You aren’t welcome here.