I'm in a foul mood and there's no salvaging it.
I'm a loner by nature, and if I don't get to slam some words down on a page then I tend to hit back at life violently. My concentration is shot, my shoulder hurts like a bitch, and I haven't gone five minutes in four days without someone bothering me about something.
It's not just not writing, either. It's several family members in the doghouse as well. Like highways, neglect and disregard go two ways, leaving unfillable trenches in our hearts.
Eh. I'd better stop before I say something really ugly.