I'm tired and cranky.
And not in Paris anymore. And there's two feet of snow.
I'll be back to my normal self in about fourteen hours, after a cup of coffee and perhaps a warm scone. Should I come across one. And I WON'T because nothing's open. cause of the GODDAM snow and slush in luxurious PITTSBURGH, P effing A! and I DON'T have any heavy cream even to make my OWN scones! Grrrr. Shhhh, you're just jetlagged and you've been catapulted back into your non-fantasy world, you know, the one where everyone else lives?
When I get cranky like this, it's a rapid downwards spiral into a near comedic level of me-oh-centrism and of course inevitable self-loathing. [I'm tired. And cranky. And not in Paris anymore. And there's two feet of snow. I can't sleep. I can never sleep! Why am I not in PARIS!? Well, Paris is expensive and Parisian people are snotty! Why can't I wish I were someplace inexpensive and warm! Why can't I just be someplace inexpensive and warm! Gnashing of teeth. I have to go to work tomorrow. I don't want to go to work. I want to stay home and draw. Ugh. My drawings suck. My art sucks! I'll never be a good artist! My blog drawing sucks! Nobody even reads this crappy blog! I have no decent thoughts! Nothing about me is remotely original!! Screw it! Screw you! Nobody likes me. I don't even like me. No, I don't want to talk to you, leave me alone! Get away from me! Expletive, bleepedy-bleep! Huff, huff, turn, sigh. Gnash teeth.]
Coffee, scones, fourteen hours.
It's hard sometimes to be so damned easy. It makes things so hard....
A little, hastily/crankily drawn illustration to augment.
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