After two huge highs that include a trip to Greece and a cracker of a birthday weekend, I've come a-crashing down.
I'm having one of 'those'
But for now, Aunty Peas is feeling a bit blue.
Look, I have shit to look forward to, and good shit. Like South American travel in 3 months and my book being printed. That's not the issue. Something a little ridiculous has come to light and taken me completely by surprise.
It's ridiculous because all evidence points towards me feeling ridiculous; especially pouring one iota into over-analysing it. But being me, I do of course. The overuse of cognitive thought is exhausting, time consuming and it's not going to change anything.
So, as I was saying, I've given myself 24 hours. From around 9:30am yesterday I promised myself only 24 hours of being a complete girl, so I only have 2 or so more hours to think about this.
Then I'll bitchslap myself and get on with things.
This just frustrates me though, feeling like this.
And frustration snowballs. I'm not having PMS, I swear, but seriously. One little issue going around my brain seems to just flow into countless more irritations that just COMPOUND into:
Road rage before there's even a rage. The dude driving past me looks fucking retarded in his Oakley Eyebands. He's just an idiot, and his car is dumb and stupid too. And watch, he's going to...ah look, and he does. Fucking cut me off. It's like I know it's going to happen.
Someone reverses into my front bumper grill. It's not detrimental, I mean hey, I only sideswiped Ludwig last week, come on let's just fuck up his ENTIRE bonnet. Might as well. FOR FUCKS SAKE. I need a new grill plastic thingie now because SOME PISSWANKER can't FUCKING PARK and bumped into me over the weekend. Notwithstanding added expense; there's just foreseeable Fixing Admin.
I had a dream on the plane back from Greece that involved images of my car looking fucked up. It's come true. Shitwank.
Bad wardrobe sense for a Monday.
I think my dress was a bit short yesterday. People asked me to bend over to pick stuff up a lot. I didn't of course, but today I'm wearing bloody jeans. Buggers.
Arrrrrgh I just don't have the time for this annoying frame of mind..
I really don't.
Men really can be pestiferous.
Especially giving advice: Just watch porn Peas. Just watch porn Peas.
Seriously, that's just irritating.
But this too will pass.