A hardcore case of the blahs

I think I'm suffering from a hardcore case of the blahs. Too hot outside, and I'm always consumed by mosquitoes. Currently itching at some dozen-plus sites (and that was WITH jeans on!). Anxious kid and no Mother's Day Out until September. The terrible twos have also seemed to arrive early, which means we have our fair share of tantrums and time-outs to contend with. And I have freelance to write and no interest in either article. And my editors seemed to have dropped off the face of the planet, so I feel like I'm sending out queries into the nether. Ugh.

And The Banker and I are trying to get ourselves on a strict budget, now that the new-house spending hemorrhage has started to dwindle to droplets. In makes sense trying to reign in costs, given the whole sucky economy and all. But there's nothing quite as anxiety-ridden or mood-bumming as writing down the costs for everything. Zanax for anxious, fighting dogs: $14. Groceries, even with coupons: $124. Gas: $78. Yuck.

Both my sisters, who were in town this past weekend for The Race for the Cure, have returned to their respective homes. And I can feel their absence most heavily.

Thrown into this mix is the fact that this weekend I'm supposed to go to The Lake with The Banker's family. This family doesn't travel. Ever. So what prompted this get-together, I've no idea. But the boys will get to go golfing, leaving the wives with the screaming kids. Supposedly, there will be a trade-off and pedicures or something for the ladies. But what I REALLY want is time to myself. To work out. Read. And maybe buy my first pair of jeans in over two years. But that, I think, is not in the budget.

Fall better hurry up and get here.