Yesterday was not at all fun at work, nor afterwards.
My chronic depression decided to make a comeback. Nothing spectacular, very low-level, but the pits all the same.
I made my way through the work day, after which der B picked me up for the ride home. (It was wet all day, not heavily but dreary all the same.) I told him how I was feeling, and that I was in no mood to cook. He sympathized, and said he'd be able to scrounge.
Once home, I made my way to bed. Buster tried to be cute, laying his head on my chest and rolling on his back, which meant that he was watching me from an upside-down perspective. I rubbed his belly, then rolled over and tried to sleep.
I'm feeling a bit better this morning.
I guess this means I'll be cooking dinner tonight.