Well, I am sure you've all been dying to hear what I've been up to in the last four days. The weekend was fairly uneventful. Aside from a few emotional meltdowns. I don't know what my problem was, but I was very fragile and sensitive and just felt like curling up under our duvet and weeping until our king size bed was saturated with my tears. Why am I such a nut case sometimes?!

On Saturday I had high hopes about getting a lot of painting done. Steve left to run some errands and while he was gone I finished up the mudding and sanding that needed to be done and then I primed the walls. Good progress, right? I was about to start slapping on the first coat of colour when Steve came home. He came and looked at the walls and said, "Are you serious?" and then proceeded to inspect the walls and point out any little spot I had neglected to fill. I felt like an incompetant idiot. And I was MAD. I was all, "This is MY project, so don't tell me how to DO it! If you want it done a certain way, then YOU DO IT!" And then I stomped off to the bedroom and cried and writhed under the duvet, fretting over the fact that I am a lousy painter, a lazy sander, and a terrible wife. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Steve came and tried to talk to me, and we hashed things out, concluding that it's OK that we have different standards about painting, it's not the end of the world, and that I should stop crying because the mattress is going to collapse from the weight of my litres of tears. OK. I peeled myself off of the bed, but had lost all momentum for painting and decided to tackle the eight foot high pile of laundry that needed folding. I watched a few episodes of Arrested Development (aka: the funniest show EVER) and was feeling a bit better.

Then Steve suggested that we practice a song that we were supposed to sing as a duet for church the next day. We started singing, but after we had gone through the song once I cried, "I can't find the harmonies! My voice sucks! I suck! This song sucks! Singing sucks! Did I mention that I suck?! I can't do it! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

And I felt terrible all over again.

What's going on in this crazy head of mine? I just hate it when I know that I'm being an irrational bafoon but seem unable to snap myself out of it. And then I get sad that I'm a lunatic, and then the downward spiral begins. I'm sad that I'm a sad loser who should be in the loony bin, where no painting or singing is allowed.

I feel better today though. We'll see how long that lasts.