I'm down. I'm really down.

I don't know what is wrong with me lately, but I'm down. I am trying to figure out why, and more importantly, to just get over it, already. Don't read any further if you don't want to listen to my sad little list of things that haven't gone just right recently.

Let's see - a weekend that Ben and I had really been looking forward to turned out to be a bust. That same weekend, Julie and Andrew went to Chincoteague. Now, I am thrilled they went there - the scene of so many happy family vacations when Tom and Julie were growing up, but at the same time, I'm sad we weren't on Chincoteague with them.

Right around that same time, I broke out in some kind of mysterious rash on my face, neck, and, uh, other places, as well. Hives? Poison ivy? Yarn allergy? I just don't know. I do know it is unsightly and itchy and real irritating.

I'm always broke. I got my first paycheck, and am very pleased to be gainfully employed again, but, let's face it, I did not take this job for the money. I love the shop and the people I work with, and the women who come in are, by and large, very pleasant to deal with - all good things, but they don't pay the bills. I'm tired of being broke.

And that's another thing - I'm just plain tired all the time. When we got home from grocery shopping on Sunday, I went back to bed and slept for two hours. What's up with that? I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I'm ready for a new phase, aren't you?