Well, two packets of oatmeal, one cup split pea soup, two Taco Bell bean burritos, and an ice cream toffee bar later, I think it's safe to say my hormones are in flux.
This means that tonight I will probably cry at "Everybody Loves Raymond," then whammity bam fly into a rage seconds later when the remote has the unmitigated gall to be a thing, made of plastic and metal, and not an extension of my flesh responsive to mind commands like "Quick! To Ally McBeal! Now to Behind the Music! Wait! What's on MSNBC Investigates?!" Moving your finger effortfully when a powerful chemical broth is brewing in your blood is just too much work.
Am *just a little* ashamed of myself for the trite, superficial blog of earlier today, but decided that to edit would be akin to slicing the warts off a frog. I can only hope that my soul's Dark Continent has terrain familiar to everyone at one time or another...even if they have the class to not put it into words!
Am certainly banking on the thought that my newfound volunteerism puts me on a philanthropic, substantial, and grounded path.