I think I'm broken

This is one of those cycles that comes upon me a few times a year.

I...am...a...giant...ass. (I wanted to use the word "buffoon" but I didn't think I could pull it off.)

First of all, my funny is broken. I attempt to stutter out something that sounds amazing in my head, and find people staring at me as though there is a..a...something...on..err..my..hmmm...see, I can't even think of something funny that people will point at. It's no use, it would be best if I just hid under the bed until things catch up. I feel like my brain is the equivalent of a loose tape. (Tape...as in cassette tape...if you're under 25 you probably won't have a clue what I'm talking about) You remember how it would get all loose and warbly...tangle up one too many times in your tape player. You'd have to hold still one of the cogs, then twist the other cog to tighten the spool? I need something to catch my thoughts up to my reason.

Secondly I'm finding myself bursting into excessive emotion. While sitting in the parking lot at school, I found myself doing shuddery breathes over Tim McGraw's, "Live Like You Were Dying." You know, I have heard this song before...why should I pick a particularly lovely spring morning to tank? In fact, why was I listening to country music to start with? I haven't purposely chosen to listen to a country music station since it's general listening audience decided that that misogynistic, protruding brow troglodyte, whose mouth proceedes his intellectual capacity by about 200 feet, Toby Keith has more value then the Dixie Chicks. I called my dear husband, who knows by now that if I do call him while he's at work, and give him a shuddery whispery "hiiii" that it's certain I've been listening to sappy music and now feel sorry for anyway I may have mistreated him in the slightest manner, and want to make sure he knows what a spousal god he is. He humors me...

I also find I can't bring myself to move. Total lethargy has set in: Laundry...dinner...housework..homework... Can't seem to summon up the interest, and to be honest, the guilt required to make myself do it. If it weren't for the spouse, I'd probably live solely on Cheez-its, and be found two weeks from now sitting on the couch, covered in a fine layer of dust and cat fur. My general thoughts about these things are: ".....eh'...."

And to top it all off, with the onset of the numb brain I have developed an inability to control my movements. Yesterday I did at least 6 embarrasing clutzy things to myself. All witnessed.

I think I could handle this downswing if all of these things were not relatively self-inflicted. It's as though I'm in some gigantic pool of molasses mentally....slooooooooooooooooooooooow Brandi. We're dealing with a through the looking glass reflection of Spring Fever. It's not your typical hormon inflated bum-out, just a total feeling like my clock has pre-set itself forward and now my timing's all screwed up. Vitamins...I'm thinking vitamins. I hate vitamins. Maybe alcohol...