Not quite ready to sing the blues

My roof isn't leaking. I've still got my man, my kid and my dog. I'm not out of food or booze. The law isn't after me.

But.

It's dark and gloomy and raining. We haven't had any snow to speak of all winter. (I'm in PENNSYLVANIA here, aren't we supposed to have snow?) I haven't had a decent night's sleep since we got back from our trip to Oregon. I'm achingly lonely for the kind of hanging-out friends that don't need a reason to come over. The dog hair on my bedroom floor is three inches thick, and if we walk on it some more it will just turn into carpeting. I'm tired of initiating, inviting, reaching out, and never having anyone do the same to me. I dread going to bed at night, but I never want to get up in the morning. People are DYING because of some stupid men's overbloated egos. I have no self control when it comes to snacking.

But.

The dajamou is playing on her computer so I can have some alone time. I got to snuggle with her AND the dajadaddy this morning. My hair is looking pretty good today. And I'm going to see my doctor in an hour to see if she can fiddle with my brain chemistry so I won't be so blue. So maybe this is where things start looking up again.

At least I have good coffee.