Cranky. Just really, really cranky today and I am not sure why. I wanted to suspect lack of sleep or over training, but I don't think the little bit of limping around I have been able to mange this week really accounts for how I am feeling.
But enough about the causes, let's relish in my foul mood.
Crankiness is the psychic equivalent of being good and stinking drunk. A few tasty cocktails (really beer or red wine if it's me doing the drinking) and suddenly anything resembling a thought/speech filter vanishes. I have found that I see the ironic, think the sarcastic and say the caustic when I imbibe. The famous examples were a drunken toast I gave at my brother's wedding when every effort short of the giant talent show hook was used to get me away from the microphone; and the fateful Webster Fitness x-mas dinner when pretty much no one escaped my acerbic tongue. I feel so constrained sometimes. I see it, I think it and I just plain want to say it. If someone says something stupid, I want to bomb in there with an (in)appropriate comment.
Well, today I rose at 5:15 A.M. to go to a spinning class. I knew from the moment I got out of bed and my sparkly, sand filled right arm was too dead to turn off my alarm that today would be a winner. My left ankle clicked as I stole out of the room and my right ankle throbbed. It also felt as if my right IT band had shrunken to half its normal length during the night. Aging is joyful.
I arrived at the pitch black spinning room to the cheery voiced instructor's promise that she had brought new music I was sure to like, including a song by the Dave Matthews Band.
"You like DMB, right?" she innocently posited. "I like them just a little less than I like Coldplay," was my reply. She knows I am a Coldplay hater. If you love them, good for you. We are all entitled to our opinion. So she and I had a mini-debate about the relative merits of DMB. I interjected my thought that the expulsion of the contents of the DMB tour bus's toilet on a bridge in Chicago was about the least offensive thing to come out of that group AND THEN it hit me. I just had this thought that I should shut my f-ing mouth today.
I got on a bike and just didn't say a word the rest of the class. Ordinarily, I bombard her with comments about how bad her music is, how it apes the nasty playlist on The Mix, but I just felt like anything I would say would be mean spirited and hurtful. Wow, is that personal growth or just a defensive posture and recognition that I could do enough damage that I would be unable to undo later? I had thoughts of having to plead temporary insanity later to explain my comments. Regrettably, my body of work makes that plea rarely stick. Aaargh.
Oh well, the day is still young.
Pick your poision, booze or crankiness that even coffee can't cure.
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