I'm not in the best of moods this morning.

Not that I'm feeling especially bad, just kind of... blah.

Despite being good on the diet yesterday (despite walking into the kitchen at least four times and almost giving in and getting a snack, but summoning - barely - the willpower to walk away) the scale didn't budge this morning. I've only lost five pounds this whole freaking year. I'm this close to giving up and just going back to being fat.

I got all of about 30 seconds to check my email before we had to leave the house.

Mostly because we were running late. Again. (Seriously. We need to rethink the order of events when Penny sleeps in, or something.)

How many idiot drivers can there be on a single three-and-a-half-mile drive? Answer: A freaking lot of them.

I've got several piles of work to do, and at least two meetings to attend, so I'm not going to get much writing done, if any. One of those meetings is utterly pointless, and the guy who insisted on it isn't even here.

And none of that is really anything that I should be all that grouchy about, to be honest. Just normal, day-to-day stuff. You deal with it, you move on. In the normal course of events, I wouldn't even mention it.

But today I'm feeling irritable, so I'm making mountains of molehills.

Deal.

--Liz