|I have no idea why, but I am so teary-eyed today. Every little thing is choking me up. I went to the gym, and read Oprah's magazine.* On the back page, she had a little ditty about her dog, Gracie, and how she died. She choked on a ball. She was two. Whatever. It's a dog. But then Oprah says that the next day, she went out to the spot where she always called the dog from, and started to call her - not that she forgot the thing was dead, but like a ritual goodbye sort of thing.
And I'm like, on the elliptical, fighting back sobs.
I don't even like dogs! I don't even particularly care for Oprah! Just the thought of the loss that was being expressed hit me in this weird out-of-the-blue non-Zuska way. I didn't consciously think, "oh, imagine if I lost E or J" but the feeling it evoked in me - that must have been how I translated it.
It wasn't the only time, either. I'm reading a stupid magazine, and I'm getting choked up at weird moments - pictures of twin girls who trust their mommy to give them medicine, letters to the editor about skin cancer - everything. Boo-hoo. Songs on my iPod on the way home - boo hoo.
I am not sure if it's the mounting pressure upon my soul that is stronger with every passing second, or if it's hormonal. Either way, it's going to be okay. If it's hormonal, then I know it's just today, and I'll be fine by Wednesday. Which is a good thing. Could you imagine? The hypothetical about some dog running out of the yard and falling into a badly-marked open hole in a street will leave me running from the room in tears.
If it's the mounting pressure that has me so precariously tearful, the adrenaline will fix it soon enough.
* Trashy magazines are my new gym entertainment. Listening to PMBR just wasn't cutting it in the motivation department. Checking out photos of drugged up, anorexic and otherwise messed up celebrities seems to keep me moving at a record pace.
Labels: bar prep, emotions, kids