The Fog of Sad

I am, for the vast majority of the time, upbeat. Life is a sweet deal and I enjoy my particular existence on this earth very much. But not yesterday. Yesterday a thick Sad Fog descended on my head for no apparent reason.

The last minute biker dude customers who kept Starbucks open late, thereby making me miss both of my busses may have been to blame.

Standing in the rain at a bus stop for half an hour watching a homeless guy spit on people is not terribly fun.

Recently feeling stupid and pathetic over my lingering thoughts about my ex didn't help either. (Oh hi, ex boyfriend. I didn't know you read my blog. This isn't awkward!)

Or how about battling the constant fear that my theatre career has peaked and so begins my slow descent to Washed Upville.

Or maybe it was the sad, sad sight of my now depleted 'Motorcycle Fund' jar which nobly sacrificed itself for my bus fare. A dream deferred.

Or maybe all of it.
Or maybe none of it.

Maybe happy people have to be sad sometimes so that they can remember what happy feels like. Whatever the reason, I arrived back home from work yesterday nearly in tears.

And I WOULD have been in tears had it not been for my amazing roommate who immediately sized up my emotional situation and whisked me away for Wednesday night whiskeys. (Say that 5 times fast).