Black clouds abound

I was going to say that I don't know why I didn't sleep well last night. That is not exactly true. I lay in bed thinking about Sean, and wondering what (if anything) he will say when he gets back into town. This is not like me at all, and I resent the fuck out of him for getting under my skin.

Anyway, to say I got up on the wrong side of bed is an understatement. All day, I have been in the kind of mood where I'm pre-empting arguments, and seething about everything because of nothing. I've never suffered badly from PMS, but that is what it feels like, but it can't be.

So, I spent the day stomping around like a bear with a sore head. It could be argued that many people would not have noticed the difference, but sod it. I was somewhere between icily polite and downright obnoxious to a colleague I felt was taking the piss (oh, fuck it... she was taking the piss), nearly smashed the computer, and slammed doors left, right and center. Especially when I realised that the foreign students squatting in my office were going to prevent me from using the computer at any point in the afternoon. Not very mature, but I was beyond putting on a nice smiley happy face.

I was supposed to meet my supervisor in the lab this afternoon. This is a rare occurrence in itself, as he usually leaves me to my own devices. I went to see him about 4.30, said can we do this at some point tomorrow. He asked why, and I told him I was in a fucking awful mood, and not feeling particularly productive. Given that earlier I had asked him if I could justify buying a kickbag off my research contract, I think he was never likely to argue.

I stopped at the supermarket, and bought a nice healthy dinner. White wine, Pringles and hot salsa dip. I cheered myself up by fooling myself that the tomatoes in the dip counted as one of my five recommended portions of fruit or vegetables for the day.

(Added Tuesday: The wine only depressed me more, but at least I did sleep)

A couple of days ago, my sister made a LiveJournal post about theme songs. After sneering about the Ally McBeal connotations (now there was a bitch that really needed a good slap), I started thinking about what would be mine. There was only ever one serious contender: Piece of Me, by Skid Row.