You kiss your mother with those lips?

I have been experiencing a good deal of depression lately.  Which is surprising to most people because I am still mostly upbeat.  It's my natural defense, kind of like a skunk smells bad or possum playing dead to avoid being eaten by sharks or dinosaurs or whatever their natural predators are.  I kid, I know that their natural predators are cars.  Duh.  Everybody knows that.
So, I am upbeat and chipper, and then I am really down and I get really depressed alone.  Then I'm upbeat and chipper.  And then I'm sad again.  I guess I'm still hormonal (I bet you say that to all the girls) and sleep deprived (I thought babies slept all the time?  Who made up that bullshit? Cause I am an expert on children, obviously, because I have two of my own and that makes me a freaking expert.  I'm a professional!)  and other stuff, too.  I don't know.  I don't want to air it all out here, partially because you really don't give much of a fuck. I know this.  I won't hold it against you.  If I could, I would give no fucks about it as well.  I would give negative fucks.  Less fucks than 0.  Imaginary numbers worth of fucks.  I'm not sure I made a good analogy of that.  Sorry, like I said, sleep deprived. 

But not really too much.  It just seems like every time I get some good sleep then when it gets interrupted again it is almost worse than if I just kept on trucking with no sleep.  Why is that?  I also have the theory that the closer to just before my alarm goes off that you wake me up the worse it is for me.  You would figure it wouldn't be so bad with all that extra sleep behind me but I am the most pissed off at 5:15 when you wake me up... It's like a bell curve.  3 am...kinda sucks.  4 am....WTF.  5 am...aw, hell no.  5:15 am....unintelligible angry grumbling, so mad I can't even form words.  5:45 am...eh, I was waking up in fifteen minutes anyway.  6:25 am....oh my god, I love you so much for sleeping in. 

So yep.  This weekend is the sci fi marathon and I am super stressed out about it.  I want to go.  I don't want to go.  I really want to be there.  I am stressed about the amount of work it will take to get there, then the stress of wondering if my DD is ever going to stop crying for my aunt.  Then the stress of figuring out where I'm going to go to pump the milk out of my engorged cow at the fair teats.  And then the sleep deprivation, of course, even though we aren't even going for the whole thing (only 8 hours of it probably, so sad...). 

I'm sorry, I'm sure this just sounds like whining. 

I'm going to go buy running shoes.  Gonna start running at water supply.  And I give an imaginary number's worth of fucks about anyone who makes fun of me for running.