I've got that holiday let down again.
Which is ridiculous because I barely even celebrate Easter.
I mean, the last time we colored eggs the girl was maybe 4 and we were at my in-laws. I don't even color eggs for the egg coloring holiday I grew up with. Although I do end up with a ton of eggs and candy from relatives, so it's like I colored eggs. Or just took credit for someone else's work. Like a middle manager.
We do get stuff for the girl, but I put the basket [or, this year, the pile of tissue paper. White tissue paper, even. I didn't look for pastel, even though I'm pretty sure I've got some.] on the dining room table and she doesn't hunt for it.
We did have a really nice brunch with friends and then lolled around for an hour or so, before we all reached the conclusion that we'd be happier lolling around in our own house and leaving them to theirs.
At which point I got home and was CRANKY.
I don't even know why.
It's not like I even had to clean or do or be anything. I was already showered. The dishes were done.
Which actually may be part of the problem. Too much time. Not enough direction. And so many things I could do, which I then don't end up doing, and then start resenting the hell out of the husband, who is minding his own business, being sick and watching hockey.
It's like he's looking for a fight.
I hate that post-holiday funk. I keep thinking it'll get better, or I'll just make myself stay busier, but it keeps happening, because there will always, invariably, be a lull.
And lulls lead to introspection or the need for decisiveness, both of which are dangerous for people who have OCD and dislike thinking about themselves. At least, have a hard time thinking about themselves in positive terms.
I really better not get bent about MayDay.