The weather looks lovely; I'm cloudy and gray. Grumpy and achy. I made pasta yesterday - it was great fun and looked so lovely. Unfortunately I did not pay close enough attention to how to store it before cooking, and my dozens of gorgeous ravioli turned into a large glob, 1/3 of which had to be thrown away. I'd spent $$$$ on ingredients: two kinds of pesto, 1/2 log of goat cheese, smoked blue cheese, fresh ricotta, lovely cheeses, fresh organic ingredients. It was such fun to concoct fillings, to make the pasta by hand, to roll it out the traditional way. The down side was having to throw so much of it away, knowing that I'd not rolled it thinly enough once I bit into the first one. My friends were very complimentary - it did taste good, but IMHO it was too doughy. The filings were wonderful. The noodles were perfect (really, why do people buy dry pasta when it's so easy to make and tastes so much better?) and just flat out fun. But all those gorgeous ravioli - my favorite kind of pasta - just didn't live up to my own expectations. Neither did the evening with friends; by the time they showed up for the pasta feast, I was already down down down - and that was before the first pasta was put into the pot.
And today I ache all over. Too many hours standing at the counter w/no break - in my boot. My back is just locked up; and that's after a long, deep sleep. I'd planned on going to the pool, getting some very needed exercise. And it might well happen, do wonders for the achy-ness. All I have to do is overcome my inertia and ennui. And the deep blue funk.
Which, it finally came to me, might well be a sign that my anti-depressants aren't quite doing the job. That insight came from externals - but jolted me into an awareness that my recent activities would seem to indicate that I'm slipping back toward that nasty steep slope. May be time to tweak the meds. The pleasure I felt in yesterday's pasta making might well have come from focusing on something new, something completely outside my normal life. Once I'm back inside... I realize the cost of that time outside. The physical discomfort is both real (tight muscles and a swollen foot) and yet not.
All I really want to do is spend the day abed; which would be totally counter-productive, self-indulgent and boring boring boring. What I do not want to do is get out, go to the pool (boot on, boot off, boot on, boot off), swim, do errands (boot on, boot off, boot on, boot off), come home and clean house.
On a cosmic level, my problems are insignificant, those of the privileged and pampered. On the immediate level, they are minute, insignificant... painful.