If I were a teenager right now, I would be absolutely convinced that I was very fat and had no friends.

What is it about the way a darkness sometimes just sits over you and makes you feel like you cannot climb out of some funk that's settled?

Today, it's just busy-ness and clutter and a chill in the air and very crabby kids. We arrived home late last night after a glorious weekend in southern Quebec with my Grandad. We walked the crisp roads, went for short boat rides that delighted the children, and enjoyed lots of good family time with Grandad and my aunt and cousin. But then, the homecoming. There are bags to be unpacked, backed up laundry to be washed, and absolutely no groceries. I now babysit on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays which means I can't get to the grocery store until Thursday at the earliest. Oh, wow. Looks like beans and... beans? What else can you get from a can that already exists in my sparse pantry? It could be worse.

Then there is the bunny, Simon. Simon has been with us through it all, coming onto the scene over 13 years ago when Greg and I first lived on the same hall at Middlebury. He is now beyond geriatric, and when we returned home last night, he had fallen over and couldn't get up. He has a huge, fatty tumor on his neck that has turned his head sideways, he now (as of this weekend) can't walk, he can't get over to drink his water, he isn't eating. It's clear Simon's time has come, except that he hasn't died. So he's lying there on a pee-soaked towel, with poop stuck to his little furry bum, dehydrated and exhausted, his little cateracted eyes glazed over. I have spent the past 24 hours bathing him, giving him drinks of water with a dropper, hand-feeding him things he really loves like prunes and bananas. I brought him out onto the lawn this morning, he just lay there, curled up, almost, without nibbling or moving.

So there is this minor trauma, the pet that just won't die, and I feel terrible because I wish he would. I can't bear the thought that if he doesn't, in his current state, the responsible thing for me to do is to call the vet in the morning and to drive him over there so they can put him out of his misery. I know I have to do it, he is in such terrible shape. I think of him, this formerly tidy, neat creature who never had a smell or any dirt or anything on him. He was so fastidious, and he now can't move to wash himself, or to pee in his litter box, and he's miserable. I say minor trauma not to undercut the value of his little life, as he has been a loyal and true pet for us, but simply that compared to other losses, his shall be more easily surpassed than others.

So that's the bunny, and his situation is certainly dire, and then there are the kids. Their situation is being remedied right now by a good long sleep, they were tucked in by half-past six tonight. We'll hope for a solid 12 hours. The no-napping in our house just means slightly tenser moods. Basically after about 11:45 am mostly my kids yell at me and cry all afternoon... okay, saying this is really getting close to me being fat and having no friends. Let's rephrase: Today it felt like they yelled at me and cried all afternoon. Truly they didn't. But that's how it felt. Their nerves are a little shot after a long weekend and a longer drive, and so are mine. Some days are like that.

But I read an amazing book, if I wasn't feeling lazy and comatose I'd add it to my list; it's called People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks. Shivery delicious. I loved it. Now I'm starting Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. It is so intriguing I think I might have to go curl up and read under the covers right now.

The best thing about days like today is that you know tomorrow will be better. All of my experience being grumpy has taught me that there's no way to get out of a tailspin of the grumps except to just go to bed and have a nice, long sleep. So good night.