Seasonal Affective Disorder can FUCK RIGHT OFF.

"Get out of my hidey-hole or I'll chew up your ankles. See if I won't."

Has anyone else out there ever felt so sluggish, tired, unmotivated, anti-social, achy and irritable that they wondered if they were actually depressed?

I have a list of things I need to be getting on with that are just normal, adult responsibilities, but EVERYTHING, including respiration and movement, just seems like a huge pain in the arse. The truck needs repairs again. (Some friends borrowed it to move and dented it and SPOUSE keeps reminding me to bring it in for an estimate, and then get in in for the repair work...can't work up the energy to care.) In the new job I find I don't work under my own initiative - it's at the beck and call of others' initiative, which gives me the hump. I cringe when the phone rings, or when I hear the 'new e-mail' chime, and the human voice is like a rake across a chalk board. Also, getting reminders in the mail from my doctor about yearly check-ups and mammograms and stuff, which I've been putting off.

No, I don't want to get a fucking mammogram.

I certainly hope turning the clocks back this weekend will help. In fact, I'm SURE a little extra daylight when I'm getting up in the morning wouldn't go amiss. Then...THEN the whining and self-pity will stop. I'm sure of it. Yes.

Now, somebody get me a bowl of soup and a bloody mary, leave it on the doorstep, knock twice gently, and fuck off.

Toot-a-root-ay, mac-doo-tay.

Here's my MadMen yourself result. She does actually look like me, I'm happy to say.

The entire day has been one long, long martini lunch. Only, sadly, without the martinis.