It started yesterday. I was talking on the phone with a reporter down in Louisiana (yes, that's still going on) when he mentioned that he'll definitely be in touch once he is done covering the latest news down there which was a) a gang rape and b) a mother who sold her kid for $175 and a parakeet. I think it was the parakeet part that got to me. Then I was emailing with someone and the talk turned to family which naturally made me think of how my cousins and their dad got together to steal from my grandmother's bank account while she was dying. (my aunt, rest in peace, had phenomenally shitty taste in men.)
And today being a generally dark, windy, cold, shitty day just made things worse. It is the urge to crawl into bed, turn out the lights, and finish of a quart of Jack Daniels. This is why I never drink.