It's raining here. Not the short, heavy shower that washes down the city and leaves it feeling clean and fresh. Not the light drizzle that cools and refreshes even as the sun shines through and paints a rainbow.
No, this is a dull, grey, cheerless rain. Continuous, monotonous, inconvenient, depressing.
My morning is not going well. The job classifieds are full of the usual junk. The few that are not have the usual eligibility criterion: Thai nationals only. No response from from any of the head hunters I've sent my resume to. This is not good for my ego.
I did not sleep well last night and woke up with a headache. I have a pain in my gluteus maximus thanks to a weekend of getting destroyed at squash by Moppet's Papa. Um, not helping the bruised ego...
So I'm sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, hating the rain, hating the city, hating my friends who all have wonderful lives, and hating myself for feeling this way.
Moppet arrives, fresh from her morning nap, and climbs into my lap. Surprisingly, she doesn't want to chat, fiddle with stuff, or poke her finger up my nose. For once, she seems to be happy just sitting in my lap.
My very own anti-depressant.
And so we sit, mother and daughter, listening to music, and watching the rain.
Edited to add: Big hugs to all my friends who emailed me in response to this post. You know me and my drama queen ways - things are not really that desperate. Thanks, guys!