I woke up in a foul mood this morning.
You'd think I'd be in a great mood. I took yesterday afternoon off. I had big plans for reorganization and projects that I've put off for far too long. Instead I ate a huge cheeseburger and wandered around town buying stuff. I got good deals on new pants, socks, a huge umbrella, a vegetable peeler, big fluffy towels, a bulletin board, discount children's software and put together nifty Easter treats for our three member Lee Ladies' Auxiliary.
I also bought a $12 bottle of cologne. It was a bottle of Perry Ellis. That's the brand I used in high school when I first began to wear cologne. Back then I'm sure Perry Ellis wasn't $12 a bottle. That's a unique indication you're getting old. When your eau de toilette is no longer $50 an ounce and makes the journey from the hoity toity department store counter to a dusty shelf at Walgreens next to the Brut by Faberge.
Anyway, I couldn't pass up a $12 trip down memory lane (after all they say the sense of smell is most closely intertwined with memory). I put some on this morning. I put too much on. I spent all morning smelling myself and wondering if everyone else was doing the same thing. I'm paranoid about such things. I was taught to use cologne as a kicker. You get the girl close enough to pick up your clean, subtle, $50 an ounce scent and that simply seals the deal (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). As if I did a great deal of deal sealing back then. However I was prepared.
The new cologne hasn't done much to elevate my mood. I don't see why it would. After all, ask my family and you'll hear that I'm cranky all the time these days. I'm convinced I'm a larval stage curmudgeon. I'm preparing for long summer days spent on the porch yelling at the neighborhood kids to get the hell out of my yard. I'm in training to be impatient with wait staff when they don't get my 4:00 p.m. early bird special dinner prepared precisely the way I like it. I'm learning how to prepare nasty letters to the editor in my head. I won't actually write them down, but I will complain about many benign topics and will inflict these views on anyone within earshot.
The next time I hear Allie tell me, "I don't like it when you're cranky, Daddy." I'll explain to her it's part of my evolutionary process.
There's no arguing that I do have a number of demons ripe for exorcism. The problem is, I don't know where to begin. I'm thinking I need to get into the ring with a prize fighter. He'll beat the crap out of me and I'll gain the perspective I need stop being so anxious about everything all the time. Dwayne, no need to leave a comment stating you'll be more than happy to beat the crap out of me free of charge. I know you're there for me, buddy.
Honestly, though, if you have any suggestions I'd be grateful to hear them. Maybe you tried transcendental meditation or started eating more bran.
Enough about that.
Shannon and his girlfriend, Anna, visited us this past weekend. They arrived Saturday night and left around 3:30 p.m. the next day. That meant we had little time to do much of anything but share a few meals together. However we were grateful for the time we had to meet Anna. She's a good egg who can perform delightful miracles with a single, half-inch piece of string (just ask Allie). We hope we see them again soon.