The Pity Party Train Rolls On

I think my mood is starting to infect those around me. Blame it on being stuck in the house with a sick three year old (ohmygodhe'salmostthree?!) since Saturday or the pile of housework I'm avoiding or my unease over leaving my job in a few weeks... or a combination of the above. Any way you shake it, I'm a grump. And I'm bringing the whole house down with me. I need to shake out of it. How do you chase your black clouds away? I'd love some pointers. The obvious "going to the gym" is out because I cant very well leave W at the kid gym section with this nasty virus. And it's too cold to lug out the old jogging stroller. So what is left? And please don't say "eat a whole pumpkin pie." Because I've considered that and believe me, it's only going to make my issues worse.

Another issue adding to my gloom is my dissatisfaction with my writing. I use to be such a better writer. I don't seem to have the focus to pick a topic that's weighing on me and really get to the root of it. Nor do I have the imagination to even think of good topics to write about. What happened to me?

So because I have absolutely nothing to say right now, I'm going to leave you with the blog post I submitted as 2011's Best of Adoption Blogs. I know Kristen doesn't write about "open" adoptions too frequently, but this post resonated with me because it was a humorous break from The Wait. So often I read blogs like mine - with anxious pre-adoptive parents navigating The Wait. Her blog, Rage Against the Minivan is an escape for me. Not to mention a good source of reference as we're tossing around the idea of doing a Haiti adoption for #3.
In The Bedroom as a Metaphor for the Neglected Inner Sanctuary, I was SO relieved I wasn't the only one with a terrible, terrible secret. My bedroom is shameful. The rest of my house (or at least, the parts you can see) are fairly well kept. Organized chaos is a fair assessment. But my bedroom is shameful. Shameful. I'm just glad that there's proof in writing that I'm not the only one.So follow the link above and join me in taking a look at our rooms and examining if they reflect the level of care we give to ourselves. In my case, it sadly does.
This is what I dream of my room looking like:

A Cozy Ikea Bedroom

And this is what it currently resembles:

New York Times photo by Bruce Quist

 So I have some serious work to do.