Tired

I am a passionate person. I feel fully, give freely and commit completely. You will never wonder where I stand on an issue. If there is a choice to make, I can make it. Whether it is a paint color, new pair of shoes or a politician, I know what I like and I know what I don't like.

Unfortunately, the people around me know, too.

This may seem like a positive trait, especially to those who stand in the paint aisle for hours looking at swatches.

But it's not. Let me tell you. Having a definite opinion means that when there is an issue at hand, that opinion flames up. That passion for the cause drains every ounce of energy, mentally and physically.

It'll wear you slap out.

What I'm trying to stay is that I'm tired.

I'm tired of the news.

I'm tired of wondering where my family's savings is going. Wondering how (not if) my daughter will bear the debt of a spending spree so flippantly approved with the stroke of a pen.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of people trying to make me feel guilty for using plastic.

I'm tired of people saying I'm a bad mother for using chemicals to clean my house.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of Al Gore screaming that he's too hot.

I'm tired of watching my government completely ignore half of the country and pandering to the half that got them elected.

I'm. Tired.

So if you stop by here and I sound like my feathers are ruffled, well it's because they are.

And if you stop by and I'm not here for a day or so, it will be because I just took myself a nap, a respite from the madness.

Right after I put all my money under the mattress.