You're afraid, and you don't know what you're afraid of...

I have a wicked case of the mean reds.

Hate, hate, hate this feeling.

Am listening to Vivaldi go through his Four Seasons, hoping Winter will shake me out of it.

I have already washed the dishes and put away some of the Christmas ornaments (don't judge me!). Now, should I tackle the bedroom (such a mess) or wake up JP and insist that he cheer me up?

Decisions, decisions...