Post-Beltane, the world wants me to hurt. I burned myself on the frying pan while cooking breakfast. My own misconceptions mean that some of what I was doing at the back end of last week at work is wrong and pointless, and I have to spend more time on the mainframe fixing them. The wok I was making dinner in decided it preferred life on the floor, narrowly missing my foot. The window decided it wanted to eat three of the fingers on my right hand.
But fuck it, quite frankly. I'm still in the post-Beltane glow. Friends and the like surround me. The rescued chili chicken is fantastic. There's a significant quantity of things in my fridge that will become illegal soon after the general election.
Trying to remember when I've felt this good for this long. It was a long time ago, and I find the whole situation rather unnerving.