This week that turtle is me.
I am totally, utterly, and completely mystified. I'm stumped. Confused. Frustrated. Flustered. Speechless. Numb. I have so many emotions zipping around inside I can't pick one. Here's the thing. I don't bottle well. Noooooo no. Baaaaad idea. Because then when either (a) implode, it's just an emotional mess or (b) explode, it's a verbal, tearful, mess.
What's the cause of such a state? The main thing, oh gosh isn't it always, a boy. Kill me now. BUT it's exasperated by a horrid, horrid paper I had to write. I had no idea what I was doing. Writing is my thing. I have very few talents but writing is one of them I'd like to think, and today I felt like the worst writer ever. An epic failure. It was a horrible feeling. So on top of the stupid boy, I felt like a failure of the prose. Good heavens. What a week. Somehow I remain optimistic. Must be genetic. Thanks Mom.
New week please.
On the plus side, I bowled a 184 on Thursday.