Last night, Brother and I decided to stay up late and see if the night sky would be so kind as to give us a pre-show, prior to the 2a.m. “height of the meteor shower.”

It delivered. Big time.

11 glorious shooting stars, that looked as though they’d descend right down on top of us. Really, 13, if I’m counting the other two Brother saw that I didn’t catch.

Shooting stars remain one of my most magical things. I mean, really now, what’s not magical about them?

It fills me with hope and love and all sorts of warm fuzzies.

While I went to bed very late, I was happy, full of joy and excitement.

Regardless of the time, everything always seems perfectly do-able to me in the middle of the night. Nevermind that it’s 1:30 and I have to be up in four hours.

Enter 5:30a.m. alarm clock.

Talk about rough, People. I just can’t do it anymore. I remember the days where I could sleep three hours, roll out of bed wide eyed and bushy tailed and it was smooth sailing through the day.

Not so much now. I just can’t handle it.

I’ve spent all day … off. Just off. Off kilter. Off balance — emotionally and physically.

Not fun.

I’m cranky, I don’t feel right and my emotions are so scattered, from super high to super low and everything in between.

While I know and am fully aware this is due to lack of sleep, this realization isn’t really helping.

At all.

In fact, it just pisses me off that much more.

And oh yeah, have I mentioned I’m mainly just plain angry?

I hate being angry. It feels very destructive to me, as though I can feel it attacking my insides and doing harm.

I’m angry at Brother for some stupid reason that I’m already trying to recall.

I’m super angry at TC because he drove my car this morning and I specifically asked him NOT to use the defroster.

I have a small crack in my windshield that was filled and my windshield guy told me not to use the defroster, and I’d buy myself some more time.

TC returns, along with the now largest windshield crack known to man. And I’m not gonna lie — I flipped out.

It was all sorts of disaster and in general — very un-me-like. Actually, I’m still feeling pissed about the whole thing.

Why does this happen? Why do I do this?

Get so angry about something that I know was inevitable anyway. I know it’s not about the windshield — the reality is that I would have had to, at some point in the next couple months, gotten it replaced.

It’s not as though TC f-d up the windshield himself.

So I’ve thought about this … asking myself, self, what are you really angry about here?

I’ve come to the following answer … I am angry that I feel TC didn’t listen to my request, that for many years he has not paid attention to things that are important to me.

Now, I can move on from this. Let it go.

What helps this is … movement. Even though I didn’t want to, I walked B late this afternoon.

And again, the lack of sleep was felt in my body. Tired, sore muscles {which yoga also had something to do with}. I wanted to turn around and go home but I kept going.

Knowing how much better I’d feel after. That B, she does come in handy. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be moving this booty nearly as much as I do.

Now it’s time for yoga. Though, again, I really don’t want to do it.

But I will and after I’ll be so thankful I did it.

Isn’t this the case with most things?