Blurgh!

It has been a Blurgh! couple of weeks.  I don't know, I've just been mopey and down-the-dumps. Overwhelmed. And exhausted.  Just really, really tired.

There's not a whole heck of a lot to be done about this, as I:

• Work full-time. They want me to show up!  Every day!  ALL day! And like, do stuff!  Gah. 
• Have an engaging, delightful and energy-draining toddler.
• Try to exercise regularly and make at least semi-healthy, homemade food.  Because, you know, you want to do that.  Plus regular exercise really beats back the crazy in my head and keeps me on a somewhat even-er keel.  
• Try to give some basic care and feeding to my relationship with The Hubs.  Finding the sweet spot on that spectrum between having a cocktail and a hot meal ready at 6:00 sharp and grunging around in sweatpants is harder than you'd think.
• Attempt to have, you know, a social life.
• Continue to fail miserably at general home upkeep, laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, dog walking and other domestic chores (Thanks to the lovely Beatriz, though, I can maintain the illusion for a few hours on Thursday afternoons and sometimes even Friday mornings.  Sometimes).

Everyone I know has some permutation of these responsibilities/issues/joys/pains/whatever-you-want-to-call it.  And everyone I know gets a little wiped out, a little overwhelmed, a little freaked out on occasion.  Why, in the past 36 hours I have both been talked down off the ledge by a good friend and, I think, helped another one at least not lean out the window quiiiiite so far.

I don't think there's a magic bullet except for taking a deep breath, having a good cry, kvetching with friends and a glass of white wine or six.   As my wise, ledge-talking-off friend S said, it's OK to have a little pity party for yourself.  Because then you can get over it and carry on.

I don't think there's a magic bullet.  But if there is, someone please let me know, for the love of all that is holy.  

Carry on.