One of Those Days

I'm having one of those days. You know, the paranoid, anxious, obsessive, depressive, pitiful, empty, meaningless days. It's the kind of day where I obsessively check my email in the hopes that someone will email me, but I don't write any email myself. I obsessively reload the stats page on my site, and I wonder about the identity of the person or thing who is in the process of visiting each one of my review pages, in alphabetical order. (What do they want with me? Are they going to send a hurtful email that will upset me into obsessing over it for a week? Or is it just a web crawler?) I worry about making enough money, which is a side-effect of depending on freelance employment to pay the bills, but I want to spend money because it's among the only things that I know will relieve my mood. I fret about the art history monograph that I am supposed to index, a task up to which I do not feel. What if I don't get it done? What if I don't do a good job? I think about writing reviews for some of the movies I've seen in the past couple of weeks, but I'm too distracted to write. I worry that the director of the documentary I worked on is annoyed with me. What if he changes his mind about wanting me to work on the next project? Plus, there's nothing on the internet today, because I'm too stressed to read about politics and I'm too distracted to think of anything else I want to read about. I'm worried that I won't have enough time to do the things I want to do, but at the same time I'm bored because I have nothing to do. As my good friend Gaia said, I'm "moody." This is a moody day.