Crankiness reigns supreme today. I can hardly tolerate being with myself, so I must be an absolute joy to those around me.
Not even Jardin en Mediterrannee, my makes-me-happy-no-matter-what perfume, could snap me out of it. Usually, its figgy/minty//herbal goodness can transport me to my Inner Happy Place.
Instead, I spent the day hanging out with Inner Critic, grousing about everything, including myself.
After calling Little Mister Peppy, B-man, I decided to contain my global pouting by working on the department budget and putting together a couple of presentations. Of course, I have procrastinated until the last minute and need to be prepared for both tomorrow, even though the deadline has been lurking for a month.
Hey, I've had stuff.
In the morning, I'm wearing Poeme by Lancome. That's right. Luca Turin nearly ruined it for me, but I'm going to shake off his negativity (and mine) and go Girly tomorrow as some radical act of noncompliance.
What the hell - it's not an interview.