A Funk

Every now and again I get in a funk. A deep, stinky, long, annoying, depressing funk.

I can't explain it. I can't seem to get anything done (no matter how hard I do or don't try). The house takes a serious back seat (ie: scummy toilets, dirty dishes, piles of laundry lurking behind every corner, no food in the cupboards) The children are kept alive on whatever I can scrounge up in our bare refrigerator. My attitude stinks to high heaven. It's pretty insane. Jeff will vouch. I'm very positive in-a-funk-mode is not his favorite time. For whatever reason, this happens to me every 6 months or so it seems. Well, yesterday I think I hit the peak of the funk. I picked up the phone last night around 6 p.m. and let loose on undeserving Jeff. Sorry Jeff. I blame the funk.

This morning (after cleaning you know what off of Lena's carpet, and then an hour later in her undies) I finally came to. Behold Funk...lifted. I said to myself, "Self, snap out of it and get to it!"

The good news? With every funk comes shinny new light on home improvement tasks. House projects galore enter my brain to the point I lose sleep (I have some brewing now). And, well toilets get scrubbed like there's no tomorrow (in fact as I type at this very moment, I can smell the bleach seeping from the bathroom).

I suppose it's my feast or famine like personality. When I'm productive, look out. When I'm in funk mode, well...look out.




*Sorry no pictures to document, it gets ugly around here so use your imagination.