How about I have that identity crisis right now?

Dear Mom,

First off, please don't respond to my comment that I usually don't clean my apartment when I get depressed with "Why would you be depressed?" Oh, I don't know. I'm going to be thirty, I've never had sex, I have no kids, no money, and a crappy job, I haven't been published yet, I'm going to have to get a second job if I want to do anything or go anywhere, I live alone with two chinchillas and a toothless cat, and I can't find a decent guy to save my life.

And when I tell you all of these things, please don't respond with, "But what about that guy I set you up with? Everybody said he was nice!" That was months ago, and the first real date I've had in years, and if I would have liked the guy enough to go on another date with him I would have, all of which just makes my grumbly, sleep-deprived mood worse.

On the bright side I may steal your satellite radio out of your car and put it in mine because it makes me happy. Which I doubt you would consider a bright side, but still.

Sincerely,

Me

For the record ...

... there's several reasons I'm not blogging like it's the end of the world, mostly because I'm in the middle of a work shift, I had to get up early to make a two-hour round trip to a pain clinic with my mom, and the rest of the day has been spent eating and getting ready for work, which I am now racing out the door to get to.

I still can't decide whether the zombie's chasing Boo in this icon or vice versa.