Hormones, (or decreasing stores of them) are probably partly responsible, but I'm thinking of the whole country and what it's had to endure, right back to that first, 'Oh, my God' moment, when each of us grasped what was coming our way.
And yet, here I am, dripping with luck. I'm buying a trolly load of food from all over the world. Scottish strawberries in a bath-sized plastic tub for a mere three quid. Edwin Morgan would have approved.
Every time I go into shops, I admire the shop workers. The young boy behind the till in Morrisons looks stoical with handsome eyes. I realise he could do with a haircut, but couldn't most of us?
Talking of food - I believe that Boris is about to sign a terrible trade deal with Trump that will bring chlorinated chicken and loads of lower food standards our way. Here is a petition from the National Farmers' Union to maintain food standards and here is an important article with all the gory (Tory) proposals.
When I get home, I have a letter (via email attachment) from the school. Our son, Hugh, is invited back to primary school for one last, half hour to collect his stuff and say goodbye to his wonderful teacher, Mr Murray. Hugh is due to go to secondary school in August. If a second wave doesn't scupper that.
The head teacher of the primary school writes - It has been a privilege to know your children and they have consistently demonstrated fortitude and determination, before and during the COVID pandemic.
Straight in to the WhatsApp group with the other mums to hit the cry face emojis. It's that kind of day.
Here's a photo me at primary school age. How different the world was then. Much less complicated. No hint of the threats to come. No known pandemics and climate emergencies. Just beautiful fashion. With practical pockets and polo-neckary.
Wee Tess's cough / potential Vocal Chord Dysfunction is still coming and going. Six months on. I would love to get her the anti-body Covid test, but in my heart, I don't think it was Covid. None of the rest of us got anything. I'm clutching at straws, I guess.
We went down to the Riverside recently and she managed to skate a bit. It got busy with people milling about, so we headed home.
Here she is, looking way cooler than I did as a kid.
Ahem...remind you of any famous poetry books?
They've still got a wee stack of them, and many exciting poets at Tapsalteerie Press.
I've not managed much poetry recently. I'm definitely a full-time mum, who occasionally cries to Country ballads in her local supermarket. Feel free to join in. It's that kind of day.
As Tess says occasionally, and, for no apparent reason:
'Do it for twenty bucks and a cigarette!'
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