Wednesday, June 8, 2011


It doesn't happen often, or at least I don't recognize it if it does, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  Feeling cranky.  Really mean cranky.  And I don't know why.

The first person I talked to was Chef Phil at work.  When he asked me how I was, I said, "I'm cranky."  He kissed me on the cheek and told me I might be cranky but I smelled nice.  Instead of saying, "Thank you!" as my Mother and Neenie taught me to say when someone said something nice, I said (maybe snarled), "Better to smell nice and be cranky than to stink and be cranky."  But I smiled after I said it.

When another co-worker asked me how I was feeling, I said, "Cranky!"  We went on to have a nice conversation, in fact...we laughed about it.

Rocket Man called to check on me, as he often does, and I told him I was feeling cranky.  He asked why and I had no answer.  I told him I was just cranky and that was that.

Even my Mother called and I told her I was cranky and she laughed. She told me, as she has for years, "You have the same pants to get glad in that you had to get mad in."  Wisdom from Ruby Jean, a dear friend.  We then laughed about my crankiness.

As the day wears on, I find that the more I say I'm cranky, the less cranky I feel.  And the more I am inclined to laugh at my earlier assessment that I'm cranky.

Seems that my crankiness abated a bit once I was in a nice, air-conditioned building that felt cool. 

I'm anxious to see if I feel cranky when I go out in a few minutes. 

I'm not much of a mathematician.  But I have come up with a formula.  It goes like this:

Ho + Hu + SRDMB = CM
{Hot + Humid + Sweat Rolling Down My Back = Cranky Molli}

I'm afraid its gonna be a lo-o-n-g summer!



Annie said...

Oh poor, poor Molli!! I hate waking up cranky. Music helps calm this savage beast when the cranky takes over. Seems like the more inappropriate the song, the better it makes me feel.

Mollianne said...

Something along the Puddle of Mud inappropriate?? I am better now. I learned some VERY inappropriate songs from your Dad while he was at the AFA.