Yesterday I had to fly to Dallas for a court appearance, Probate Court, to begin finishing up Mom's affairs. Southwest Airlines let me down for the first time: we had a 1½ delay on a 45 minute flight. We - my sister, her husband and daughter - rushed to get to court on time, spent all of 10 minutes in the courtroom and 3 minutes in front of the Judge, waited an hour on some paperwork, then it was done. Kill some time in downtown Dallas and my sister's place, then home. The plane back was packed to capacity, said capacity including five very tired and unhappy toddlers who were arranged in a neat circle around my seat. Still, I managed a nap, drifting off with a smile, thinking how much training my own five children had given me in ignoring screaming brats.
For most of the day yesterday I feel I was mildly hypomanic, and so thoroughly enjoyed the trip, site seeing and visiting with my sister.
Today I am more manic, I think, or maybe it's mixed. Maybe I'm down. I can't really tell which way I'm going, but it's not toward normal. My face feels funny. I am trembling ever so slightly, especially my hands. I feel like I want to do things. I feel like there are things that need to get done. I feel like I'm the one who needs to do these things. And I feel like I'm frozen and disappointed in myself because I know that things are not going to get done. God DAMN I hate this feeling.
I want to start tomorrow with something easy and doable: I and any of the kids I can awaken will clean up the trash in the front yard: paper, bags, candy wrappers, sticks, stones, etc., to get ready to mow the
We shall see.
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