Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. Did I ever wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I was having weird dreams and woke up in the early hours, sweaty and anxious and irrationally angry, like you are when you haven't had a proper nights sleep in weeks. My alarm went off at 7.20am, like always, but I couldn't find the clock to press snooze (bad habit). Turns out it had fallen down the crack between the bed and the bedside table, but by the time I found it, it had shrieked to full capacity and had finally shut up of its own accord.
My commute goes something like this: you start with a very brisk walk to the end of the street, followed by a very brisk walk past two perfectly good bus stops (when the traffic is bad, the buses are jammed full and don't stop no matter how frantically you wave your arms). Grrr. At the third bus stop, a load of people pile off and you can finally get on. Relax; you are going slightly faster than walking and there is less chance of getting wet. Painfully slow journey ensues. At Highbury & Islington, you have to change buses, for no apparent reason. Get to work about 5 minutes late, join the vast crowd waiting for an elevator. Finally get to your desk 15 minutes late. Race over, for now. Feeling ratty, and it's not even 10 yet.
I know it is all a matter of perspective, and I understand that it is an effort of will to remain focused on the positive; but for a pessimistic soul like me, the weight of some days is all out of proportion with my emotional strength.