blowsy

In the two and a half weeks since returning from Scotland, I've felt distinctly...well, blowsy.

Blowsy, according to Dictionary.com, means:

1. Having a coarsely ruddy and bloated appearance.
2. Disheveled and frowzy; unkempt: blowzy hair.

Neither of these definitions is particularly flattering but the word seems particularly apt, as between the jet lag and the subsequent heat wave, I've spent most of my time since returning from the retreat...in retreat.

Of course, that means I've also berated myself about all the things I was supposed to get done, which is strange given that I didn't allow myself any guilt or anxiety while in Scotland. If I spent the month reading or contemplating the angle of sun through my window, that was fine. Even dandy, especially after the crazinesses of finishing off the school year and then writing a poem a day for nearly all of May.

But since I returned home, having had a fruitful AND contemplative time in Scotland, I've been busy feeling guilty.

And what makes it worse is that it's not rational to feel guilty about feeling jetlagged or for feeling worn out because of the endless deathless heat. And I KNOW it's not rational.

Anyways, after all this self-flagellation, I'm finally feeling ready to get back to work. Of course, this is the week I'm slated to cover a co-worker's vacation, so it's 9-5 for me, answering phones and feeling crabby.

Bah. Is it wrong to hate the world?

A.