Pityville. Population: Me.

As I laid on my bed just now, feeling sorry for myself and missing my husband, a song one of my friends mentioned the other day, popped into my head. "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming swimming swimming..." Sure, it's from a Disney movie. And sung by a fish. And, okay, not really much of a song at all. It gets the point across, though. "When life gets you down, you know whatcha gotta do?" You know, sometimes I'm like Nemo's dad. I don't want to know "whatcha gotta do". I want to wallow in my self-pity. It's like a temper tantrum. It doesn't bring about a resolution to the current problem, but it does make one feel better. Just a bit of yelling or crying or stomping of one's feet can do wonders for the mood. I'm generally a happy person who doesn't let life get her down, but when it does, it does. And that's okay. If I didn't let myself feel sad or lonely or upset, I wouldn't be honest with my feelings. So I'm letting myself be mad that my husband isn't home with me tonight. I'm letting myself be sad we didn't have dinner together. I'm letting myself miss the trip to Costco we surely would have taken so he could walk up and down every.single.aisle and spend more money than necessary. And I'm missing the part where we would have come home, popped some popcorn and watched a movie snuggled on the couch. Because instead? I'm eating a salad and watching the news. Ho. Hum. And I have about a million (give or take a few thousand) more nights of this.

*sigh* What do we gotta do, Dory?