This morning did not start well and is not going well.

I have already taken things personally.  Gotten furious. And I am exhausted. Exhausted and I are not friends yet, despite our long acquaintanceship. Exhausted and I are bitter enemies, in point of fact. Exhausted makes me want to yank my eyes out with forks. Blunt forks.

And yet, I persevere. I resist yanking my eyeballs out (not that hard, let's be real). I resist screaming (as much as I can possibly resist screaming... no one is perfect and I am absolutely not even close, but I managed to yell instead of scream, and that only a little, so I'm doing ok). I resist shooting anyone with laser beams from my (not yanked out of my head) eyeballs. It helps that I don't actually know how to do that, except with special effects, which would clearly take away from the revenge factor of being able to shoot laser beams out of my eyes. Catch 22?

(When I'm exhausted, my eyes ache. Hence all the eyeball jokes. Sorry. They really, really ache.)

I remind myself I'm just tired and cranky angry frustrated. Exhausted. Not to mention, still sort of sick from the GI virus that hit me Sunday morning and left me feeling wrung out like a damn mop, even though it wasn't all that bad, gastro-intestinally.

So, I practice breathing. What else is there? Breathing gets me through a lot. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.

I practice mainlining caffeine (just kidding, I drank my coffee from a glass as usual). I hope that the caffeine doesn't set off the remnants of the GI virus (so far, so good). I hope that eventually, it helps left me out of exhaustion and into a clearer state of being (so far, not at all, still completely exhausted).

There's not much no hope of a nap, since my kid is home today, also the result of said GI virus.

I allow myself to hope whoever "invented" GI viruses - or whoever let them flourish amongst us all these years - lives in the hell of yanking their own eyeballs out with forks over and over and over again each moment. Just kidding: I hope they have to use rusty spoons to dig them out. That would be painful. GI viruses suck.

And then, I let go of the revenge fantasies. (They were amusing, but they've had their moment.)

I started practicing smiling at myself in the mirror. The lines don't reach my eyes yet but my eyes are still in their sockets and I'm starting to feel less furious, so I'm counting it as a win.

Some days, I need all the wins I can get. And sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep.