Sadly, I must report that the above is a fairly accurate portrayal of my disposition today.  I am not quite sure when exactly my attitude went south, but I think it was somewhere between when my eyes opened and my feet hit the bedroom floor.  Luckily for all human beings concerned I have been at home all day alone with my grumpiness looking ever so lovely in plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt.  My outfit illustrates my attitutude which is most concisely stated as, "I don’t give a flying pluck!" 

So here I am brooding around the house alone, grumbling to myself and trying to understand why I am so disenchanted today.  I was theorizing that it had to do with the lack of sleep I got last night.  Between my intermittent runny and stuffed nose and sporadic coughing I must have been up a dozen times last night. 

That does not bode well for me.  I need my sleep as that is the only time my brain is off-duty from my to do list.  Sure my subconscious may pick up where my active brain lets off, but all that amounts to is unusual dreams  filled with a wide array of people, creatures and interesting dilemmas (albeit, I am never quite sure why the donkey can talk or why it has an accent).  I need my brain to be off active duty every night for a good six or seven hours or I am compromised in some way the next day.  Sometimes that compromise is alertness or creativity, others it is a lack of patience and a whole lotta’ bad attitude.

You would think that one could not have a bad attitude if no one is around to experience it.  It’s like the age old query, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it still make a sound?" Or conversely, "If a man speaks and a woman is not around to hear him, is he still wrong?"   If you are crabby and no one is there to receive it, does it still count as crabby? 

From my first person experience I would have to say it does.  I can barely stand myself.  I am going to bed early tonight and if I don’t wake up with bells on tomorrow there will be hell to pay and another lovely entry in the Carol "I don’t give a flying pluck!" fashion annals. It’s getting ugly here folks.

Day two hundred and two of the new forty – obla di obla da

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