This so-called break from life has not exactly started off particularly well. On top of the fact that I am exhausted and wish I could hibernate for a week here, I am just about ready to murder something. Especially since I left at four thirty and just got home right around nine pm. I could have been back and happy by five, but no. Of course not. Because, you know, everything has to have something to make it suck.
So honestly, I really don't want to write right now. My fingers still feel frozen, not that I was even outside for very long at all, and yet they're still too stiff for me to type properly. I rather want to throw something very heavy through a wall and create a lovely dent, but I know altogether too well that that's not going to happen (rather unfortunately at that).
I'm sorry. I'm not quite feeling myself right now. We can just pretend that tonight didn't exist (yes, just about any of it from four thirty onward) and everything will be better. I'm sorry for anything I said or did or ranted or blogged (or failed to). It's been a rather miserable day and I'm not much in the mood to do anything except for bitch and whine. My apologies.
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