Last night, I was in a very, very good mood.
This shouldn't seem blog-worthy. (Really, Jen? A good mood? Last night I was thirsty!) But this burst of happiness just sort of came out of nowhere.
I've been sick with a more-than-a-cold, less-than-a-flu, bigger-than-a-breadbox thing for twelve days. On Monday, I had an event that emotionally blindsided me, the sort of thing that made me go to bed early, thinking, Tomorrow this event will be in The Past, in the graveyard of bad feelings.
Yesterday morning, I had a meeting with Stephanie, Ruth (Brain, Child's advertising and marketing whiz), and Anne (Brain, Child's designer). I thought I was feeling fine, but since I'd quarantined myself for so long, it was only once I got to the meeting that I realized that I was still somewhat sick, what with the Kim Carnes quality of my voice and my nose obviously chapped from blowing it. I wanted to invite Ruth to lunch, but instead I went home in the interest of keeping my germs to myself.
But then, last night ... I don't know what happened. The weather was in the 70s and dry. I opened the windows in the kitchen. I put on a CD that Brandon thought he got for himself. I sung along. I pulled off my socks and shuffled around on the cool tile. I enjoyed cooking dinner, and that hasn't happened for quite some time. Nothing was externally different: Caleb still grumbled about his homework, the house was still a mess, Simon still kept up his barking campaign at the squirrels.
This calm--this feeling right in my own skin--struck me as very animal. Normally, I go about my business without giving much thought to my body, but last night's good mood made me believe there must be some advent-of-spring evolutionary thing at work in my body, or my brain, no matter what's going on in my particular life.
Maybe, I thought, in the past, this good mood would have provoked me to procreate, or start planting the crops, or given me the clarity of mind to think up new ways to ensure the survival of my family. (Evolutionary Me always seems to be preoccupied with the harvest for some reason.)
As it was, the good mood inspired me to not do much but enjoy it. I did the dishes while Brandon and Caleb played a card game. I cracked open a beer and read all but the last chapter of a novel. I had a square of dark chocolate and a handful of Goldfish and it was absolutely delicious. I snuggled with Simon, who's been a little stiff in the hips lately. I went to bed late, knowing that, like the emotionally blindsiding event, this good mood might be--probably would be--fleeting.
And then I sort of ruined it by being wistful before the good mood was even over. But by then, I could barely keep my eyes open anyway.