Ugh. Such a mood, such a place. Perhaps it�s the headache. Or the family drama that�s suddenly infused my life over the past few days. Or guilt over damned near breaking my father�s toes last night. Maybe a jolly cocktail of all of this and more.

I want to take a break from socializing without feeling guilty and fretting over feelings. I want to be left out. I want to quit taking this medication, so I can stop feeling like a jet-puffed marshmallow, face swollen and puffy and tight, a side-effect not made bearable by any discernable release from internal pressure on nerves and vessels in my skull. I would like to flash forward to fall or winter, when I could hoard things and putter about a cool apartment in worn out clothes, leaving little dabs of dark yellow or blood red on things I touch before the paint brushes and canvases dry. I want my apartment to be clean, really clean, to not be politely referred to as �cluttered.�

I want to believe it�s okay to hope my grandmother gets worse quickly now that they�ve discovered this tumor, instead of lingering on in her downward spiral. �Quality of life� was a phrase I�d been chewing and cherishing, saving it for use at my next medical appointment, and I regret having thought of wasting it on myself, since the difference between feeling good for me and for her has been far apart for 20 years.

I�m thinking of having olives and Jell-O for supper tonight. Of spending the evening lying in bed with the new window fan on full speed, hoping to doze off early and sleep through the night. Tomorrow I might not dry and style my hair, but let it be whatever it thinks it needs to be. I might have a chocolate bar and a tomato for breakfast as I debate whether I can muster the emotional energy for a walk or run.

But then I�ll go to work like a good girl, submit that travel voucher and plow through the work and brainstorm for ways to get out of a lunch engagement with a drama queen on Thursday. And start searching for more part-time work.